The Gift
by Sulia Serafine
Summary: The sequel to ICBW, running parallel to its mother series, about a young man named Vinny, discovering the truth of his birth. This can be read without reading ICBW! Complete
1. Son of a Man

The Gift

Episode 1 : Son of a Man

_By Sulia Serafine_

_This is an ALTERNATE UNIVERSE fic. This is the sequel series to It Could Be Worse, which will end with season 4. NOTE__ You can read it if you have not read ICBW. It's possible. You won't get the foreshadowing and the cameos, but you will, eventually. I'd explain them__. __Credit goes to Tamora Pierce. I'm broke, so you can't sue me. Any other copyrighted things that don't belong to me in here in fact belong to other very businesslike people. Could you believe that? I guess that's why I'm broke._

_I've decided to run this series parallel to ICBW even though it's supposed to be its sequel. For those who choose to read ICBW and The Gift, then you'll get little hints for future episodes of ICBW and lots of pleasant cameos.  Because of this, for every 3 episodes of ICBW, there will be one episode of The Gift. Hey—there are 45 ICBW episodes left after this. I can't belt out that many The Gift episodes. Guess I'll just have to write ICBW faster, huh?_

_So, feel free to e-mail me. Put your email title as The Gift. Email: **SilverwLng@aol.com**. Thanks!_

_Rated PG-13 for language and brief vulgarity_

~~

The first thing you should always remember about people is that they like to assume the worst. Why? I don't know. I'm not a philosopher. Leave that for the university professors and the meditating wise men. In my experience, people do this because they want to be prepared, emotionally or physically, for a really crappy—pardon me—situation. They're pessimistic. Why should things turn out great? When you hope for great things, you're presented with worse. If you aim your sights lower and something wonderful happens, hey! Then it feels ten times better than being disappointed.

But of course, this observation is a huge guess. I don't have near enough experience to write a book on life. Hell, I'm a seventeen year-old boy who doesn't even stay in one place long enough to _have_ a life. But I suppose it could be worse.

All right. I bet my last dirty copper that you're confused. Let me start at the beginning.

My name is Coram Vincent Winston. I'm seventeen, as you already know, and I have short, wavy, white-blond hair. I have bright blue eyes. If I didn't dress as poor as I really am, people might assume I'd had the money to buy colored contacts. My height is fairly tall, about six feet or a little under. I'm lanky, I guess. Not too skinny. I could stand to gain a few more pounds, but that isn't my choice, is it? Though I'm a little vain about my appearance at times, I make do with what I have. It's not like I have the money to spend on a suit or something. 

On a more personal note, I go by Vincent, or Vinny. I've always been a little freaked out by my first name. There's no reason at all for me to dislike it. 'Coram' sounds very nice. I just think Vinny sounds cooler for a street name. And that's what I've used since I was twelve. Maybe one day I'll call myself Coram. Obviously, someone wanted to call me Coram if it was made my first name and Vincent, my middle name.

That brings me to another detail. My parents are a mystery. I've never met them. I don't know their names, or if they're even together. The term 'orphan' should thereby apply to me, assuming they're dead (as you can see, I'm assuming the worst just like the majority of humanity). But there's this feeling in me that says they're alive. Maybe not together, and maybe without any clue of whatever happened to me, but I know they're alive. 

So it sounds cliché. 'Orphan boy seeks long-lost parents.' I assure you that it's not. I don't want their love or their apologies or even their explanation for my loneliness. I could have been a mistake—the result from a one-night stand. That doesn't matter. Who I am is insignificant.

It's finding out _what_ I am that motivates this search.

I'm not like other people. Once again, sounding cliché, but just listen for a second. For as long as I could remember, I have possessed this heightened sense of instinct and sometimes, this weird gift of prediction, too. Split seconds before something happens, my body has already reacted to the situation. A car almost hit me once. A knife almost stabbed me. Punches have been thrown at my face, too, and I saw each and every one of them coming.

The gift reminds me of a science fiction novel. I wish my life were like that. From the majority of books I've ever been privileged to read in my short lifetime, I've observed that things usually turn out okay in the end. Picture this: clairvoyant boy uses skills to gamble on hoverbike races and gains enough money to buy a train ticket home to his parents, who are overjoyed to see him after losing him in that mob outside the mall. 

It almost seems worthy of a King's Award for Fiction. Yeah. I wish. 

My earliest memory is from when I was seven years old. As far as I know, I'd been a patient at Styx Hospital since birth. The doctors had found something strange in my blood—an antibody that no one had ever seen before. These antibodies accelerated the process with which my body healed itself. At the time, I was still an ignorant child. I couldn't understand why everyone was so surprised. At first, I thought I was just like everyone else.

A few of the other kids could understand what I was going through, because they were dealing with the same thing. They treated me no differently. You see, there were kids like me at Styx, too. They didn't have my regenerative abilities, but they were also born with abnormal features. They had been committed to the hospital at birth, as I had, and we learned our lessons, played our games, and lived our lives together. We secretly called ourselves a freak show. And we were proud of it.

There was a dark-skinned boy who coughed all the time. He slept in the bunk bed above mine and did math in his bed with the flashlight under the covers. He had this mind that was super-rational. He solved equations at an accelerated rate because math rarely had any exceptions to its rules and laws and conjectures. Boys his age should have been learning their multiplication table. He was doing analytical geometry and calculus. And the freaky part was that most of it was in his head.

Others had physical deformities as well as strange mental capabilities. But no one could heal himself like I could. And they couldn't predict things like I could. My heightened instincts put my reaction times off the chart and my clairvoyance made IQ testing a walk in the park. I just knew those things. 

During that time, arrogance wasn't uncommon. We freaks were all a little haughty and proud of our abilities. We showed off to the doctors and the Gray Men (men who kept us in line for the doctors) and competed for rank. We were ruthless beasts, searching for a meaning in our lives by beating at each other like territorial monsters. 

No one seemed to notice that we were never getting anywhere. We were children. Just children. Fifty miles away, normal pre-teens would be skateboarding on the sidewalk. In Styx, we were jumping hurtles and getting medical treatments for ailments that didn't exist.

When I was twelve, I grew restless of the hospital confines… _sick_ of all the repetitive experiments and _sick_ of getting the same answers from the Gray Men over and over. I didn't have parents. I was special, and I was in Styx. That was all they ever told me. There's only so much a person can stand.

When I was twelve, I escaped. I've been running ever since. 

~~

So I said people are likely to assume the worst, right? Case in point: the day I met Yvenne Noble. I won't lie to you. There's nothing noble about her. And yet she managed to charm her way into my life and sink her teeth in on that fateful day. I assumed the worst about her, and I got much more than I expected.

I learned how to hustle people with that Three Card Royale trick from watching others do it. It was a cheap, easy way to make money. You had to have a sharp tongue, to provoke those passing by to play. You insulted them. You praised them. You did whatever it took to get them over to your overturned trashcan and try their luck when luck wasn't needed at all since they always lost to me anyway. I mean, sometimes, you had to let the sucker win… then urge him to bet his winnings again and gain even more. But that was the best part. Hustling was good.

And that day in November, that was exactly what I was doing. Unstable sources of money always forced me to the hoverbike stadium. And I hated that. Sometimes, I was poor enough to gamble my last nobles on a strange racer by the name of "The Black Emperor". Though I knew the win was going to happen, I still felt uneasy about throwing my last portion of money out there like that. That's why I wanted a steady job every now and then.

Saving money was a problem. I had no place to save up my money. No bank account. That would be dangerous. Someone could figure out who I was and turn me in. The last thing I wanted to do was go back to Styx. Sure, I never went hungry there. But I never had any choices there either. If being independent meant starving a little, I was all for it. My childhood arrogance was as strong as ever.

So I had a bag of wadded bills that I stuffed into the side of my boxers. No pickpocket could get their hands in there (unless they were really desperate and I happened to be unconscious, just ripe for the pickin') and I was too fast for muggers to catch. 

Anyway, at the beginning of November, I was hustling in the corrupted metropolis of Carthak, which is located in the country of Mithros if you're not that good with geography. There are a lot of chumps in Carthak. The money came easily, but if you took too much, the person got pissed and shoved a gun in your face. You had to take your winnings in moderation, then flee. At least my young legs were strong enough to do that.

I saw a woman (maybe my age, maybe a little older… you can never tell with women. Their make-up makes physical maturity so ambiguous) exit a sports bar flanked by three yelling men. They had round bellies and thick limbs. One still carried his beer bottle and drank between curses. 

The three stooges seemed to be complaining about something. It was about money. Of course it was about money. This was Sin City, and money reigned supreme. My good sense of hearing —nothing to do with my gift—managed to pick up that the young woman was a bookie and all three men had their money because of a bet concerning a soccer game. She probably had more than enough money if the men were very angry.

The woman was unperturbed by their threats and shouts. She was slim and short with light brown hair pulled into a knot at the back of her head. A backpack was slung over one shoulder and in one swift movement, she placed a baseball cap on her head backwards.

"Get off my back. It's not my fault you lost your damn money," she told the men and continued walking ahead, which happened to be in my direction. She seemed so fearless to me. Even if I was abrasive towards my enemies at times, I was never that obviously fearless. It made me smile to look at her.

The men were still complaining. Seeing as I had no customers or possible-customers around at this time of day, I put away my cards, nudged the trashcan away, and waited for the group to reach me. The back of my head tingled, like it always does when I'm sensing that something exciting is about to happen. My smile broadened.

You never found _this_ sort of entertainment at Styx.

When they were three paces away from me, one of the men grabbed the woman by the arm. She immediately turned around and kicked him in the groin. The poor sap was down for the count. The others' shouts grew louder. They were on guard now, and though just a bit drunk, their hulks of bodies would be enough to overcome her.

I really don't care for rescuing damsels in distress. It's none of my business what goes on in other people's lives. But I was genuinely bored, and the woman was attractive to a certain degree because of her fearlessness.

"Hey, leave her alone, you fat ass," I yelled with just the right amount of authority. I bridged the gap between us and stood behind the woman who was regarding me with suspicion. Strangers never did anything heroic. They ignored fights that were right across the street and tried to remain inconspicuous.

Both men were enraged at the 'fat ass' comment and charged without a single thought. I grinned and let my instincts do the work.

I ducked under the first punch and spun around, a roundhouse kick that knocked the ogre right in the chin. I twisted around the sloppy blows that were meant for me from the other man and kicked my heel under his kneecap in a way I knew had to hurt a great deal. His legs buckled beneath him and he was soon writhing and moaning on the ground like a big baby. The first slob was still dazed. Ignoring the second one, I readied myself for the next bull charge.

I was tempted to take off my vest and use the red inner lining as a bull-fighting cape. Instead, my stance formed that of a boxer's, and I wondered if the woman was looking. I meant it when I said I was conceited.

Before any of the three men recovered, the woman grabbed my hand. I noticed vaguely how soft it was. She must use a nice expensive lotion. Maybe it was one with an advertised tropical scent. That would be nice.

"Come on, you idiot! Run!" she commanded me.

Running was the coward's way out, but she had already started in front of me, pulling me along. I wanted to stay and humiliate the men even more, just for the fun of it, but the woman wasn't going to have any of that. Maybe she feared that someone would report her and her 'business' would be ruined. 

I didn't have that fear, because I didn't have a business or any hope of having a business—even one as problematic as being a bookie. But if she had that fear (and thus destroying my image of fearlessness for her) then I'd respect it and follow her. The things I did for a pretty face... I suppose in the end I'm a sucker just like the rest of my gender. It doesn't matter how superior my body is in all ways. I'm still a guy, a son of a man.

When we were two blocks away, the woman was breathing hard. She yanked me into an alley. I watched her try to regain her breath, her hands on her knees as she bent over and sucked in oxygen. For the necessity of looking normal, I faked a lack of breath as well, though I refused to bend like I was on the verge of keeling over.

"Why the hell did you do that?" the young woman demanded. She straightened up and shot me a murderous look with her chocolate colored eyes. It's strange how the feistiest people are always wrapped in the smallest packages. She was indeed the feistiest little sprite I had ever met. 

"They were hassling you," was my answer. A very simple answer like that ought not to get too terrible a response. Maybe she'd be grateful.

"You jackass!"

Or not. I frowned at her choice of words, and before running off on a tangent of why I despised being compared to a donkey, managed to convey a few of my own feelings. 

"Ungrateful bitch."

"I could have handled it! I had mace," she retorted and wiggled a tiny spray bottle in front of my eyes as if she were going to spray it. She wouldn't. And if she did, I could always dodge the spray. That's what I was good for, wasn't it?

She lowered her hand after a few moments and placed the mace back in the inside pocket of her coat. The young woman then dropped her backpack onto the concrete and placed both hands on her hips. Oh. That was bad. That was _the stance_. In my limited experience, women used this stance when they were about to be disagreeable and I did not want to deal with that.

"Are you expecting a reward or something, pal? Money for your valor? A good hard blowjob or something? Because if you are, I swear I'll kick you in the balls."

Ooh. She knew the word valor. _And_ she was vulgar. This could be fun.

"No, I'm not expecting anything. I just did it. That's all."

The stance disappeared when her arms were back at her sides. I breathed a sigh of relief that I wasn't going to have to endure a possibly feminist lecture and wondered if it wasn't too late to just walk away and go back to hustling. Little Miss Feisty decided otherwise.

"Come get a cup of coffee with me then, Blondie." As an afterthought, she added, "Just remember that if you try anything, I still have my mace."

"Don't call me Blondie," I snapped. I hated that. I had the right mind to dye my hair black one day. But that might look horrible. 

We walked as we conversed, out of the alley and onto the chilly damp streets of Carthak. I heard gunshots in the distance accompanied by sirens. Ah yes, good ol' Carthak. Life didn't get any more exciting than this place. If I was lucky, I could run into three other hustlers before the day was through and sabotage them before they could get a chance to sabotage me. Money was key because I was a sinner in Sin City and money could get me out.

"So what's your name then, Blondie?"

"Vinny," I replied, the corner of my lip curling in a sneer at her flagrant use of the offending nickname.

"Cool. Well, Vince, my name is Yvenne. There's the coffee shop over on Dobbs Street. They sell nice iced mochaccinos there, even considerin' the lack of fast service."

"I said my name was Vinny, not Vince."

"I like Vince."

"Well, I don't. So stop it."

She laughed at my irritability. "Aw, come on, Vince. Lighten up. Get the brick out of your ass and have a mochaccino with me. I'll pay—and you'd better take me up on that offer, because I _never_ pay for somebody else."

Neither do I. And even though she was annoying me with her mouth going a mile a minute, the fact that she annoyed me so much attracted me even more. Hook, line, and sinker. In mere moments of our meeting, I loved to hate her.

"So is that what you do for a living? Trick people with that stupid card game? 'Try your luck, buddy! Find the griffin!' Huh?" Yvenne asked with as much tact as a porcupine somersaulting in a room full of inflated balloons. We ordered our iced mochaccinos and sat down across from each other in a booth.

"No. I'm just doing it now because it's the easiest option at the moment. I'm saving enough money to get out of here. I'll probably take the ferry to Tortall."

She grinned with pearly white teeth. Her tongue darted out and wet her lips. "You have a problem with Carthak then?"

"And you don't?"

"Good point." Yvenne scratched at her hairline under the baseball cap. Now that she wasn't being pissy about my motives, she allowed herself to relax.

"Do you enjoy your work?" I asked, seeking to fill up the silence.

She shook her head. "Not really. I could do better at other things. But this is my life. And I have no other ideas, so yeah. This is it." 

Our drinks arrived. I was glad I didn't have to pay for my own drink. Reaching into my pants and down my boxers for money wasn't all that proper looking. Some days, I had a few bills in my wallet, so I could reach my money when I needed it—but not today.

I placed the straw in my drink and took a small sip. I rarely indulged myself with these pricey little things, but this was certainly _the_ day for indulging: sitting next to a strange and temperamental girl was something I never did.

Yvenne tapped her straw on the tip. She was studying me, still measuring the truth of my words. "How old are you?"

"You first," I replied, immediately on guard. I didn't like the direction that this conversation was taking. It wasn't supposed to become personal. It was just a little bit of fun to brighten my otherwise bleak life.

She chuckled. "I'm nineteen. Started the bookie business as soon as I got out of high school and got kicked out by the old man."

The old man? What a nice term. Yeah, right.

"I'm twenty."

"Bullshit," she automatically said.

"Eh?" I asked, confused. No one ever called my bluff. Ever.

The short young woman started laughing again. She reached across the table and patted my arm. "It's okay. You can tell me. I know you're not that old. I mean, I could have been fooled with the stubble on your chin, but tell me. Come on."

I honestly had not thought it possible for someone to know when I was lying. The idea upset me and made me sink further into my seat like a frustrated child whose excuse for missing class had been found invalid. I prided myself on being an excellent liar. Maybe it was Carthak. People lied here so much that know-it-alls like Miss Feisty here knew all about lying. 

"I'm seventeen."

Her eyebrows arched in surprise. "Really? Damn, I would have guessed eighteen."

"Yeah, well I'm full of surprises."

"Bullshit on that, too," she snickered.

Oh, if she only knew. I sucked the last of my cold mochaccino through the straw and tossed the cup at the trashcan. It went in without even hitting the side. We both got up, but Yvenne hadn't finished hers. She made slurping sounds with the straw that were amusing to me. I walked ahead one step…

…and immediately turned around and grabbed her arm. She had just started to slip in a puddle on the floor and would have otherwise landed on her ass. Yvenne straightened herself up and shot me another suspicious sideways glance.

"How'd you do that so quickly?"

_I'm a freak with special powers._

"Just lucky," I said.

We exited the establishment and stood uneasily outside the doors. I suppose I should have returned to my Three Card Royale, because time was money and I had very little money to waste.

"It's almost dinner time. Shouldn't have drunk that. Now I can't eat," she remarked. 

I never had plans for dinner. Sometimes there wasn't even dinner at all. But my stomach wasn't full and maybe whatever dinner she would refuse could be donated to me. Unfortunately, that would mean spending a little more time with her and risking more personal questions. She was attractive, sure, but not worth the trouble.

"What did you have planned for tonight?"

"I don't know. Turning more tricks, I guess. Why?"

She looped her arm with mine. "I must be absolutely insane, but come back with me to my place. I like you for some odd, probably unhealthy psychological reason." Yvenne paused. "Do you even have a place to go when it gets dark, Vince?"

"Stop with that Vince crap. And yeah, I go to the youth centers sometimes. They throw mats on the floor for us on the condition that we don't drink or do drugs there." 

And the great part about the youth center was that there were a million ways of sneaking out of without being caught. Why would I have to _sneak_ out? Well, they lock the doors so that 'ruffians' can't come in and hurt us. I suppose the ruffians were too dense to come in through the ways I did. You couldn't be sure of establishments like the youth center. The Gray Men might show up and take me away and no one would believe me when I screamed out that they were bad people because no one ever heard of Styx Hospital.

My newfound companion pulled her pea coat tighter around her. "Okay, _Vinny_. Then crash at my place tonight. I trust you enough. You're just a seventeen year-old boy."

"Still old enough to be a homicidal maniac," I said dryly, offended at the comment on my age. She'd said it in a way that resembled: "You're just a little puppy." Do you know how much that gets on my nerves? 

"Are those all the clothes you have?" she asked while eyeing me again.

I patted my arms. "I'm wearing a few layers. Lost the bag I usually keep them in."

We were a block away from Yvenne's place when we saw smoke billowing out of the building's windows. There were flames bursting from one in particular. I stood there, awed by the magnitude of destruction. Even with the years I'd spent traveling around and the last year I'd spent in Carthak, I'd never seen a burning building.

The window in flames now burst into a large ball of fire. I turned away to guard my retinas.

"My apartment," she whispered beside me. Her eyes were glued to the sight. "Oh, no. No, not my apartment!"

"Holy shit, Yvenne, I'm sorry," I said. What should we do? They should teach what-to-do classes for situations likes this! "I think the fire department is on their way though. Do you want to see if you can find your landlord?"

Her next reaction was something quite unexpected.

"Do you want to come with me to Tortall? I mean it. Tonight, do you want to leave Carthak with me?" Her eyes were wide and she had this desperate tone in her voice. She definitely wanted _out_.

What the hell? I frowned and scratched the back of my neck. "Why do you want to leave? Shouldn't you at least collect on your insurance or something?"

"I can do that through mail! It's just… the only reason my apartment would be like that is if Donnelly figured out. Oh fuck! He figured out!" she cried, loosing her arm from mine and stomping on the ground. She paced around in circles, coming apart at the seams. "Oh fuck. This isn't good."

Never having been around that great a number of people, I wasn't sure if this was a typical reaction of those who had just lost their home. I attempted to calm her. "Okay, okay. Take it easy. Who's Donnelly? What happened?"

She looked around. We were alone on the street. Yvenne grabbed my hand and dragged me behind her. She talked as we went, explaining her situation.

"Wait, where are we headed?" I interrupted.

"I'll stop by a holoscreen bank terminal. I need to get all my credits and trade them in for real money later. We need to skip town right _now_."

"Why do we have to skip town? And why _we_? I'm not the one who pissed off Donnelly or whoever he is!"

Yvenne stopped and faced me. Remorse washed over her. She sighed and leaned against the side of a brick building. "I'm sorry, Vinny. I didn't mean to drag you into this just like that. I… I just don't want to be alone. Maybe to have someone watchin' my back, like you did today."

"Who's Donnelly?" 

She put a hand on her forehead and groaned. "I can't believe I'm bonding with a complete stranger. Okay. He's this rich guy. Owns casinos. I recently took a large sum of money from him when he lost his bet on the soccer game at Maresgift Stadium."

It started to make sense. I connected the rest of the dots before she went on. "You fixed the match, didn't you?"

She shrugged helplessly. "I knew a few of the guys from high school. Promised to give them a small cut if they threw the game."

Hell, my lack of morals would have probably had me do the same thing. Of course, I didn't have those connections. I just had myself. Yvenne ran her hands over her face and groaned again. I leaned on the wall with her so we were shoulder to shoulder. She was warm.

"I'll go. If you're getting me to Tortall, sure, I'm in."

"You mean it?" She removed her hands from her face and smiled at me.

I shrugged. "I've got nothing to lose."

And I really didn't. All I had were literally the clothes on my back and the bag of money hidden discreetly in my boxers. And now I had a traveling companion. Maybe I would tell her my life story, and she could help me find my parents and find out what I am. Maybe not. Only time would tell, and I wasn't about to waste my chance.

~~

Author:

I hope you enjoyed it! 

For those new readers, I definitely suggest you go back and read ICBW. ICBW is not primarily a Joren/Kel fic. It just happens to be a huge adventure and okay, it does have some bonus scenes with K & J, but since these are NOT the original POTS characters, Joren isn't as despicable as he is in Miss Pierce's story.

_And as for those of you who just want to read The Gift and screw ICBW_, please do. Email me if you have questions. I'll be glad to answer.  Just one warning: I like to recycle names and characters from POTS in different ways. As you just saw, I used the name Yvenne, who appeared in Squire, and I also used the name Maresgift from the same book. Names that appear in the book don't always have the same meaning in my story. So just sit back and relax! Don't forget to review and tell me what you think!


	2. The Tux Makes the Man

The Gift

Episode 2: The Tux Makes the Man

_By Sulia Serafine_

_This is an ALTERNATE UNIVERSE fic. This is the sequel series to It Could Be Worse, which will end with season 4. NOTE__ You can read it if you have not read ICBW. It's possible. You won't get the foreshadowing and the cameos, but you will, eventually. I'd explain them__. __Credit goes to Tamora Pierce. I'm broke, so you can't sue me. Any other copyrighted things that don't belong to me in here in fact belong to other very businesslike people. Could you believe that? I guess that's why I'm broke._

~~

I had money now. Well, I had Yvenne's money, but close enough. Because of my unlikely new companion, my financial troubles were nonexistent. Whatever she earned, she invested. I don't know how a girl who grew up in the slums of Carthak gets into this sort of thing. All that's certain is her frightening devotion to it. 

She often blew up at me like a firecracker whenever I interrupted her stock watch on the holoscreen. Even though Yvenne's apartment had been burned down and Donnelly was going to kill her if she ever came back, the feisty sprite was always looking for new opportunities.

It had been two weeks since I met Yvenne and since we left Carthak. After a day's acquaintance, we still didn't trust each other. That was to be expected. We were always jerking away from each other's touch and throwing suspicious glances. But we also joked about our nerves.

"What? Think I'll rape you in your sleep?"

Amazingly, she said this, not me.

And then she would laugh and make a funny face at me, then return to whatever she had been doing. I always stood there, a little bemused, for a few minutes after she surprised me with another personality quirk. 

I was generally clueless of the ways of women. Since I'd entered the 'brave new world' that existed outside of Styx, I focused on the necessary things in life that would get me to where I needed to go. Contact with women consisted of deceiving them with my card tricks. I'd never had the time to befriend one, or even flirt. I knew what flirting was when I saw it, but I never took part in it.

Interaction with the opposite sex in Styx had been next to none. They were in one building; we boys were in another. Once a year, boys and girls attended an assembly at which the head doctor spoke. Even then, we could only gaze at them from across the broad isle that was set between us.

An older boy in my ward was known to sneak out at night. His vision was extraordinary. Not only could he go into bright light without sunglasses, having no problems at all, but he could also see perfectly in the dark. He used this skill to go to the girl's building and visit a female patient that he liked. When he came back, he was usually very giddy and extremely happy. The other boys pelted him with questions. I lied awake in my bed, listening but not curious enough to go down and be as awe-inspired as my comrades. 

Yvenne couldn't understand my uneasiness. Of course she couldn't. She'd been raised in a society where talking to a person of the opposite sex was considered a normal and expected action. Thus, she quickly wrote me off as shy and insecure. I let her believe what she wanted. As long as it didn't interfere with my search, I would be as shy as she imagined me.

Days passed quickly in Tortall. The city was bright and friendly—the complete opposite of Carthak. Though running freely through the park with its holographic statues of knights and princesses seemed like a good, carefree option, I knew I had to concentrate on what I had come to do.

I investigated strange births that occurred seventeen years ago. It didn't surprise me to see a name or two of a patient at Styx. During that time, strange birth occurrences had been at an all-time high. The name Winston was found once or twice, but it was irrelevant since the births were recorded as girls. The thought of a long-lost sister didn't appeal to me at all. In the few books I had ever been allowed to touch, siblings liked to fight and when they _were_ civil toward each other, they were distant the other majority of the time.

It crossed my mind that they may have recorded _me_ as a girl, but upon contacting these households, I discovered that the girls did exist and that the parents were not the ones I was looking for.

I came home every day to a beaten up convertible. Yvenne had forced me to push that thing out of a junkyard because she said it was still usable. The multiple rust holes were appealing, she'd joked. It was a miracle the engine still worked.

We often cruised rich neighborhoods to find out who was throwing a wild party. The idea was to lie and tell the drunken host we were friends of a friend. Hosts never refused us. So we went upstairs and used their showers, 'borrowed' their clothes, and so on, so forth. I once found the perfect tuxedo in my exact measurements, but Yvenne asked me what my purpose would be in taking it. (Her exact words happened to be: "What, are you going to the Ritz to hobnob with an heiress wearing a fortune in diamonds? Put it back, Jeeves.")

When we had no party to attend, we ended up at the cheapest, grimiest motel room with a single bed. We took turns sleeping in the bed. Sometimes, I slept in the backseat of the car because slumbering in the same room as a female still irked me _and_ I was a light sleeper by nature. I woke up at the slightest noise or movement. 

"Hey. Where do you go during the day?"

"Hustling?" I suggested.

"How come I never see the money you get from it?"

"How come I never see yours, period?"

We were sitting in the front seat of the car, eating burgers and fries. I was sitting behind the driver's wheel, and though I had a license, it was a fake one. 

I had gone to one of five hospitals in the city earlier in the day to break into their offices and go through their files. My work was unsuccessful. At this rate, I might as well go back to Styx and demand the truth. I bet you think the obvious choice would be to go to that infernal hospital and break into their records.

The whole idea centered about returning to Styx. And since I had been twelve, I thought that once I even went within a mile of Styx, the Gray Men would capture me and place me in chains so I could never escape again. 

"Vinny? Come on, man, tell me the truth."

"I am," I insisted. A knot twisted in my stomach. All at once, I knew something fairly bad was about to happen to me, but I didn't want to move. She wouldn't understand if I suddenly jumped out of the car. It hurt my head to ignore my precious instincts, but I refused to go anywhere. 

Yvenne crawled over the car's selector lever and pinned me. I tried to push her off, but she was stronger than she looked. My food was shoved away and I heard myself protesting as she reached a hand down my pants and boxers. A furious red color blazed across my hot cheeks as she reached deeper.

"What do you think you're doing?!"

She yanked her hand out, holding my bag of money. Then she got off me and turned her back to me. The feisty sprite loosened the drawstring and put a hand inside to examine the nobles and coppers that I possessed.

"Give that back!"

She turned her back to me. I leaned over this time, rather uncomfortably since I was larger than her, and tried to grab my money back. She yelled at me and slapped blindly, though I knocked her hands aside without trouble.

"Let's see," she said when I finally settled back into my seat and cursed like a sailor. "I see the change from the burgers and fries. I see your paychecks from Moe's Burger Palace from when you did that one stint a week ago. But I don't see any ten or twenty noble bills. And that's what you usually get hustling." She gave me that sideways glance again. "So, what do you do? Do you spend the money right away on drugs or something? Or do you not hustle?"

"Give it back," I demanded, furious.

She tossed the bag at me. Yvenne sat with her arms crossed as if she had been the one whose space had been violated. I cursed at her again, but it didn't faze her.

"All you have to do is tell me. I'm curious, Vinny."

"I walk around, okay? I think about stuff. Have you ever just took the time to think about stuff, Yvenne, or are you too busy being a psycho?" I spat. How could I have wound up with a companion like this? What on earth possessed me to take her up on her offer? I should have stayed in Carthak! 

She pointed past my shoulder. "Get out."

I realized my mistake at once and would have screamed in frustration if I hadn't been more worried about actually being thrown out of the car. "No, wait, I didn't mean it! I was just—"

"Get out! Right now!" she commanded in a deep voice.

Trying to calm her at that point would have been futile.  I balled up my fists. So this was what happened when I ignored my intuition. It serves me right. I should have gotten out of the car while I could. Then she would have apologized to me and not have pushed the subject further. Now I was being thrown out and there was no guarantee I would be invited back.

I grabbed a backpack and another rucksack from the backseat and got out. I slammed the door as hard as I could—not that it would do any good—and started walking away. Looking back would not happen. I had my pride. No way in hell was she going to see me look remorseful. She was the one invading _my_ privacy and _my_ space. I did nothing wrong. My reaction would be the same reaction of any man. She was the one at fault!

An hour's walking found me at the Golden Gala Casino & Hotel. If I was on my own again, I had to obtain more money than I currently held if I was to survive. 

I stealthily made my way to a bathroom within the Casino and locked the door. Sophisticated men would be glued to their Blackjack tables and their slot machines. They would be rolling dice with beautiful broads at their sides. It wasn't likely one would come along in the next five minutes, needing to relieve himself. 

I reached into my backpack and gently extracted a cylindrical bag. It contained the anti-wrinkle tuxedo that I had found with my perfect measurements. Yvenne may have told me to put it back, but I never did. Luckily for me, the fabric was versatile as well as elegant. I could roll it up and put it in the bag intended for its convenient portability. My clothes were stripped from me and replaced by the clothing that smelled like money.

My name that night would be Pierce Tamorand. I changed my pager ID. Inserting the information into my pager ID via memory chip took mere seconds. And then I had transformed from a scruffy young conman into the heir of the Tamorand family fortune.

"I attend Fulcher University, but I'm thinking about upsetting my old man to be a Shang in the East Yamanis," I practiced saying while straightening my sleeves and shining my cufflinks. Then I made gestures with my hands, as I imagined wealthy, carefree men of society would do when they spoke richly of their privileged lives.

The metamorphosis was complete. I wet my hair and tried to style it straighter than the unruly curls I was given by nature. 

On the inside of the door to an unlocked janitorial closet, someone had carelessly left the keys. I placed my belongings within this place, locked it up, and took the keys with me. I ran my fingers one last time through my hair and started walking toward the main room.

Dragon Roulette looked appealing. The red and black scales, the spinning, and the little black dragon's egg rolling around, deciding whom would win and lose. I headed to the roulette table, concentrating on my appearance. Coming off as mysterious and stunning was not too difficult at all. I thanked my natural grace that I could strut so well; I also thanked my genes that I also had the ability to look convincingly older than I truly was.

This did not stop a casino employee with an earpiece and a tiny microphone near his mouth to gently tap me on the shoulder and ask for identification. I smiled warmly at him to assure him of my confidence. Afterwards, I proceeded to show him my pager.

"Thank you, Mr. Tamorand. Happy Belated Birthday, by the way," he said to me, winking his left eye.

"Thank _you_," I replied with a courteous nod of the head. According to the ID, I had just turned 21 a few days ago. Any age older than that couldn't be pulled off.

At Dragon Roulette, I won a significant amount. Then I went to other tables and games and purposely lost just a bit. The casino employees would investigate me if I never lost. I knew how things worked around here. It was the same everywhere else, too. Before the afternoon was over though, I significantly augmented my savings by three hundred fifty percent.

I peered over at the desk a few feet away. Eight children around perhaps ten or eleven years of age were gathered around the desk, accompanied by an adult who did not act like their father, but rather… a teacher, I suppose. He spoke to them and they formed a line. 

The scene reminded me of Styx. Differences included their lack of slate gray uniforms and absolute desolation. These children joked and played while they waited in line, something that I was never allowed. Joking was something my childhood companions and I did in recess, which was recess only in name. The younger children played on swings, but we with a greater developed arrogance from a full ten years in Styx preferred to sit on benches and act adult.

"Excuse me, Miss?" I tapped the arm of a passing waitress serving champagne.

"Yes, Sir?"

"Why are children in a casino?" I asked, pointing to the main desk.

She chuckled. "Those children are here every year at the hotel. They're on vacation from Copper City with their Assistant Headmaster because their parents are too busy to take them home for holiday. They go to theme parks and vacation sites in this city every year, and stay at this hotel because the Assistant Headmaster likes to play the Centaur slots while the children sleep."

"And how do you know all this?"

"I talk to the kids. They're wonderful, really they are… and very intelligent. Such a shame their parents don't take notice." She offered me a glass of champagne, which I took and sipped. I tipped her generously, which caused her to curtsy while balancing her tray.

When I was done with my gambling and exercising my gift, I sat down at a lobby table to strategize my next move. This hotel was expensive, and I was still a very thrifty and frugal man. Apologizing to Yvenne was out of the question. Finding her would be nearly impossible, anyway. Tortall was a large metropolis—even larger than Carthak. I'd been in this city a few times before and was always very lost when I wandered about.

My thoughtful planning was interrupted when I caught the eye of a child standing on the other side of the table. The hand that had been stroking my chin automatically gestured for him to sit. A brief cold feeling surged through my gut, and I knew that this would be significant. The child was one of Copper children on vacation. Yes, I suppose he looked intelligent enough.

"Can I help you?" I asked.

The young boy had glossy black hair, thin straight bangs arranged perfectly across his forehead. His round face and his skinny arms were all I could see over the tall table since he rested his chin on his knuckles. "I saw you."

My eyes narrowed. He'd seen me doing something I don't _normally_ do if I can help it, my mind told me. But I asked anyway. "Saw me what?"

"Cheat. At that card table over there," he shrugged in the same way he might to someone asking him where he'd last seen the hall pass.

"Oh?" I smiled. Yes, I had cheated. My instincts had told me I was going to lose otherwise, and I had bet a large amount at that particular table. Sleight of hand was another skill of mine (though I rarely used it), and I know that the security cameras didn't catch it. So how could this little whippersnapper see it?

The boy frowned. "Why did you cheat? It's not fair, you know."

"I didn't cheat. Don't you tell anyone that," I warned in a firm, chastising tone. 

He sighed. "Fine. But I want you to teach me how to do that."

The suggestion made me laugh. I covered my mouth with my hand. "Kid, I don't teach anyone _anything_. You'll have to teach yourself. You could do it, if you had truly seen me… which you didn't," I added hastily. "You saw nothing."

The boy frowned again and walked away. He glanced over his shoulder at me once, obviously disappointed, but I waved him away. Little boys could be humorous and silly. Thank heaven I never was. 

Later, I stood outside the casino beside the street, watching men and women come and go. If I hailed a taxi, where would I go? A particular hover taxi parked and touched down on the street beside me. The driver leaned out.

"Hey, Mister. Need a place to go? I know some good gentlemen's clubs, where you can meet a nice young lady, if you know what I mean." He wiggled his eyebrows at me. I grimaced. 

"No, thank you." I walked to the other side of the steps. The taxi driver took another well dressed man and left.

I turned my back to the street. Another car pulled up behind me, a ground vehicle I could tell by the noise, and I prayed it was not another taxi driver trying to find a fare. "Go away," I said loudly. "I don't want to go to strip clubs. I'm not a hopeless middle-aged fart that's never going to get laid without paying."

"Well, I beg to differ. That could really be you in two decades, Vince."

"Yvenne?" I turned around and spotted Yvenne sitting in the convertible with the top down. I descended the stone steps and met her at the curb. I was torn between delight and the pointless anger I had harbored earlier. "What are you doing here? I thought you threw me out."

She drummed her fingers on the wheel. The smile on her face was playful and bright. "What can I say? I'm a sucker for a guy with a cummerbund and a bow tie. Get in, already. I promise not to ask any more questions until you let me into your boxers of your own free will."

I grinned and started straightening my bow tie while looking at the rearview mirror. "You just want me for the money I won."

"Not true!" she protested, giggling at the same time.

I didn't know how she could come back so quickly. How could someone just throw that whole incident over her shoulder when she'd been even angrier than me? I was afraid I'd never understand women.

Or maybe it wasn't a 'woman' thing. Maybe it had to do with friendship…because I never really understood that either. I never really had it before now. And suddenly this haphazard, last minute companionship from Carthak had also metamorphosed. We weren't just traveling companions. We were friends.

"Oh yes. Well, you can thank Mr. Pierce Tamorand because I believe I've made enough for us to leave this city."

"Pierce? Ooh. I like that. Would Mr. Tamorand like to hop in then? All I have to do is get some gas and we can be off." She leaned over and opened the door. I got into the car and threw my bags into the backseat again. We pulled away from the curb. She tucked her hair behind her ear as the other loose strands flew around in the wind. "Are you sure you want to leave Tortall, though? Are you done doing whatever it is you do during the day?"

I leaned back against the headrest, tilting my face upwards toward the darkening sky. You couldn't see the stars because of city lights. You couldn't see them in Styx either. I guess I haven't come that far after all. I might as well go back and try to break into their records. But could I do it and escape?

"Yeah. There's only one place I can go, but I can't really… Nah. We'll drive around a bit more, and maybe I'll go there later."

"Is this place in Tortall?" she asked, sparing me a concerned look. "Come on, 'Pierce.' Tell me. I'd drive us there, if you wanted."

I took off my jacket. Next, I put on my seatbelt. "No. I don't want to pull you away from our travel plan—whatever it is."

She took one hand off the steering wheel and reached for my hand. I shied away from her touch, but Yvenne pinned my hand down against the parking break with hers and gave it a squeeze. I sunk down uncertainly in my seat. Getting accustomed to personal contact was going to take a while.

"I'll go wherever you go. As long as I have a phone, I can talk with stockbrokers and bankers. And as long as there's a place where you can do your hustling thing, that's good, too." She shrugged. "Hey, maybe you could find another casino and cheat your way to wealth."

I snorted. "I only cheated once. The rest of the money was won by skill."

"And how much did you make with an honest guess?"

I told her.

She stopped the car. We were just pulling into the gas station. I cleared my throat right before someone behind us honked his horn. Yvenne pulled all the way in and parked besides a gasoline pump. "No way. You're lying. No one's that good!"

"There's more to it, but I'll tell you some other time."

"No! You tell me now," she insisted. 

I got out of the car and loosened my bow tie. Then I rolled up my sleeves, pulled back the gasoline tank flap and unscrewed the cap. She glared at me, but I continued performing my task. "Oh, no. I'm not telling you a word. Your hand isn't down my boxers _yet_."

"We'll see about _that_."

I turned my face downward so she wouldn't see my blush. Sheesh! What a mouth! I guess I'm glad she's not like other women whom I've observed at a distance. They couldn't possibly be this entertaining.

I changed my clothing at the gas station to avoid staining the wonderful tuxedo. We got onto the highway before Yvenne asked where I wanted to go. I replied the nearest city. Styx was a while away, but I wasn't going there. I didn't yet have the nerve to go back there. 

"Hey, how did you find me?" I asked.

"First, I asked myself what type of losers you fool. Then, I asked myself where those losers try to get an honest game, since you obviously don't give them one."

Two miles out from the city, the car started making a funny beeping sound. We looked for a little indicator light on the dashboard and found that none of the indicator lights worked. We pulled over to the side of the road and popped the hood. Neither of us knew much about cars, and we were very afraid of what the problem might be.

"Well isn't this just peachy," Yvenne muttered. 

"Did you check the oil before you left?"

"Not yet. Where is that little rod thingy, Vinny?"

I looked up. "What? I didn't say anything."

She stared at me. "Didn't you just ask me if I checked the oil?"

"No."

We both frowned. Almost immediately, a pile of clothing and trash in the backseat began to move. The little boy I had spoken to at the casino threw the clothing and trash from him. He clambered out of the car. Then, he walked over to where we were and started to check the oil. Yvenne and I gaped, dumbfounded.

I should have been able to predict that a little boy would hide in our car. But somehow, in the midst of all these happy reuniting feelings with Yvenne, it escaped me. I wondered if being preoccupied with friendship and these other goody feelings actually dampened my attention span for my highly sensitized instincts. 

The boy snorted. "It figures. You should check your oil regularly. And get that indicator light fixed." While we stood rooted to the ground, speechless like a pair of dumb idiots, he went to the driver's side, found the lever to pop the trunk, and then retrieved a plastic oil container. He nudged us aside and started to change the oil, kicking a small bin below to catch the hot oil as it dropped down. "Excuse me."

We stepped back. 

"What are you doing here?" I asked. All that went through my mind was that we had to go back into the city. We had to take the boy back before someone accused us of kidnapping him. That was the last thing I needed! Jail? Oh no. I needed to dodge the authorities at all costs.

"Don't worry about it," the boy said. After a few minutes, he was finished. He grabbed a rag from within the car and started wiping his hands off. He grinned. "I knew from the look of you that you were in the middle of an adventure! Just like my dad. He ran away once and hid in a car. That's how he met his friends and my mum."

Yvenne scrunched up her face. "Can someone please explain to me what is going on here?" She crouched down. "What's your name little boy? We have to get you home."

The boy pouted. He reminded me of some of my other childhood 'friends.' He couldn't have been much younger than I was when I ran away from Styx. Of course, when I ran away, I didn't do it for adventure.

The idea of adventure was silly and foolish. I didn't like this boy's train of thought, but after all, he was just a boy. I studied him like I would a science diagram. That was the head full of crazy notions. That was the little skinny body that would one day fill out and impress. And those were the shoes that had probably tracked dirt across the back seat. 

"My name is Faleron Jasson. And you can't take me home because I live all the way in the city of Copper."

"You're here with your classmates. Right? Vacation in Tortall?" I asked him. There was something else I was missing, a little itch in the back of my mind indicated, but once again it escaped my comprehension. A lot of things were doing that today.

He nodded. "Just like I imagined! You know everything, like an adventurer ought to!"

"I'm not an adventurer. Sheesh. How old are you?"

He looked like he wanted to jump up and down in joy. Ah, little boys. How weird and innocent they can be…"Almost eleven. I'm very smart! You need me! I'm really good with cars and computers! I helped you with _your_ car!"

Yvenne snorted. "I could've figured it out sooner or later."

I put down the hood and decided to take my turn driving. "We'll get him back to Golden Gala right now."

"You can't take me back!"

Yvenne grabbed Faleron by the back of his shirt and forcefully 'guided' him to the backseat of the car. "Oh yes we can."

"I'll tell them you molested me if you do!"

Both Yvenne and I froze where we were. We exchanged incredulous stares. I motioned for her to continue. So, she shoved him into the backseat. Then she hopped over the passenger door and plopped down onto her own seat beside me.

"He's got no proof."

"I don't need proof. The media takes one look at the tear-stained face of a ten year old and they won't let the story go for months. In the meantime, because of my age and my family, the DJPF will be swayed to believe whatever I tell them!" the boy cried indignantly.

I had no idea who this kid really was, but whoever he was, he was _good_.

My companion groaned beside me. She punched the dashboard and turned around in her seat. She gave our young stowaway the evil eye. "And just who is your family?"

"Don't you recognize it from my name? I'm the grandson of the re-elected Vice President of Mithros!" The boy folded his arms across his chest and showed us a smug, confident look. Smug. Damn it, no one was supposed to look smug in this car except me! …And maybe Yvenne if she's embarrassed me…

Yvenne slapped her seat and shook her finger at me. "Well, he's smart for his age, I'll give him that. What do you want to do with him?"

"I say we tie him up and throw him in the nearest river," I replied.

"Cement around the ankles?" She didn't miss a beat.

"Only if we can find some."

"And if we don't?"

"Oh, there are plenty of rocks around here."

"Are you sure? What about witnesses in fishing boats?"

"I have the money to bribe."

"And what makes you think they'll take it?"

"You can be a convincing femme fatale, can't you?"

She grinned. "The way you think turns me on sometimes."

"Oh, stop it. You're making me blush. And there is a child present. Shame on you."

Faleron glared at both of us. At least he was smart enough to know we were being sarcastic. I shook my head and turned the ignition. Yvenne regarded the kid with all the friendliness of a boot camp drill sergeant. She pointed to a bag of sandwiches beside Faleron. He handed her the bag and she started eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

"So, kid. What do we got to do to keep you quiet?" she asked in between bites.

He beamed up at her. "Just take me along for the ride. Anything to escape the vacation from hell…"

"You really are some kind of smart-aleck whiz kid, huh? Thinking of all of this and pulling it off?" She finished the sandwich in record-breaking time.

"You bet! My I.Q. tests told me I was way up there, and my teachers make sure I study all the time and watch the news, too!" He paused and tilted his head. "So, who are you guys?"

"I'm from Carthak trying to find a new life to settle into. Name's Yvenne Noble. You call me anything else and you're toast. This here is Vinny Winston, our mystery man. No one calls him Vince except me."

"Who said you could do that?" I snorted.

"_I _said I could do that," she retorted. I rolled my eyes. Then she turned around in her seat and started tickling me in the side. With all my self-taught control, I couldn't help it. I started laughing. 

"Stop that! I'm driving!"

"You two are funny. I think we'll have a great adventure!" Faleron piped up.

The kid was an unexpected turn of events. But he actually knew how to take care of the car better than we did. He knew more about the events in the news than we did. He had a better school education than we did. He even had the mentality of an ambitious young man when he wasn't going on and on about adventure.

And considering the fact that we were supposed to be the adults, that was a little pathetic.

At this rate, I should put up advertisements on billboards. 'Vinny Winston is now looking for sidekicks! Please dial 1-800-YUFREAK!' And I could hold auditions to see who was going to bother me the most and then choose that person. Of course, at the top of that list was currently an eleven year-old boy running away from school and an ex-bookie who liked to be moody and throw me out of cars after invading the off-limits pants area.

I'm very protective of my pants.

~~

Author:

And once again, another short episode brought to you by Yours Truly! I'm not used to short episodes. I'm really not. This is short for me. Usually, I'm doing something like 20,000 + words in ICBW. Go figure. 

It came to my attention that I'm spinning out of control, away from the original writings of Miss Pierce (Yes, I altered her name and let Vinny use it…). By fanfiction is almost just 'fiction'. So from now on, I'll try very hard to incorporate more original Tortall elements. I made roulette into Dragon roulette. That was an odd one, but I suppose it's better than nothing, eh?

Yes, Faleron is the son of Roald and Lalasa. That was an easy one. I can't tell you why they named him after Faleron King. You're just going to have to wait and find out. That's what foreshadowing is. Please review!


	3. Nightmares

The Gift

Episode 3: Nightmares

_By Sulia Serafine_

_This is an ALTERNATE UNIVERSE fic. This is the sequel series to It Could Be Worse, which will end with season 4. NOTE: You can read it if you have not read ICBW. It's possible. You won't get the foreshadowing and the cameos, but you will, eventually. I'd explain them. Credit goes to Tamora Pierce. I'm broke, so you can't sue me. Any other copyrighted things that don't belong to me in here in fact belong to other very businesslike people. Could you believe that? I guess that's why I'm broke._

~~

So here I am. 

I don't exactly know where _here_ is, but it can't be too hard to find out. There's no time to find out now, though. The road is long, and the sky is turning gray with the threat of bad weather. If you ask me, these are the perfect conditions for a nap in the back seat.

I shoved the various pieces of junk and clothing onto the floor and lain down on the lumpy and cracked leather. I've slept in worse places. This would actually be better than most.

"Sweet dreams," Yvenne called from behind the wheel. She giggled and reached behind her with one hand to ruffle my hair.

"Stop that!" Then I paused. "Why is it so quiet?"

Yvenne pointed beside her. "The squirt is asleep. I'm tempted to dump him by the side of the road, but that's nothing new."

"Oh." I lowered my head again. "Well, I'm going to sleep, too. So could you keep it down? You know I'm a light sleeper."

She nodded. "Sure."

"And put the top up. It might rain soon."

"Whatever you say, Vinny."

My head began to itch. It wasn't the sort of thing I could scratch, either. Instead, there were little electric impulses, stimulated and now driving me crazy. I rubbed the back of my neck and frowned. There was one more thing I had to settle.

"Yvenne?"

"Yes?"

"Don't wake Faleron up while I'm asleep and try to teach him how to drive. We'd crash."

She applied pressure to the brake and stopped the car. "How the hell did you know I was going to try that?"

I rolled onto my back, keeping my knees bent and my hands behind my head. "I learned how that diabolical mind of yours works so I could survive. It was a perfectly good guess."

The Carthaki glared at me and resumed driving.

It's mildly difficult to fabricate new excuses for my actions. Ignoring the predictions and impulses never became an option. If I did, I went through pain or humiliation. You've already seen that happen. It's not like I actually enjoy being banished from the car for something I didn't do.

The impulses came and went, always thrown in my face. If my gift were a person, he'd be a tall burly man with a foghorn, coming at me on a bullet train every other minute. And I would be stuck on the rails, staring into the blinding train lights unable to move until the gift hit me full on.

It hurt sometimes, to see and feel the things I did. But it's a type of pain I've grown accustomed to. Everyone carries a burden on his shoulders, right?

~~

A boy from my ward once told me that he had nightmares whenever he ate too much at dinner. This spawned my lifelong habit of eating a tiny supper. I had never expected him to tell me, but he just did. Maybe it was because he knew I didn't talk to anyone. There was no one to trust. When a patient trusted another patient at Styx with a secret, it gave him the power of blackmail.

When I was a child, nightmares were very rare, but they frightened me nonetheless. Every now and then, my imagination transformed into a treacherous thing. Monsters breathed down my neck and hid in spooky shadows. I'm glad that I rarely had these morbid dreams. A tiny part of me is still surprised I never had a heart attack when they happened.

No one ever knew. There weren't any boys to trust with this secret. The aforementioned boy, who ate so much that nightmares punished him—he had these awful dreams, but he never remembered them. He had nothing to be scared about. _I_, however, was scared shitless for days after the few times it happened.

The doctors could give medicine to cause one to sleep every night without interruption. This was a worse fate than the nightmares, because the boys who took that medicine never seemed to be fully awake when they moved about during the day. They were unresponsive and docile. It dismayed me out to see them trudge about like zombies let loose in a horror movie.

Any secret as embarrassing as nightmares could cause other boys to look down upon a patient. In those days, we pretended to be adults. We scoffed at nightmares because those were things for children. We weren't children. We were elite… better than everyone else! Too good for the world to see and that's why we allowed ourselves to be holed up in a hospital like committed lunatics.

To have a nightmare at the age of seventeen makes me feel like I'm ten years old again. And being ten was horrible. I was surrounded with peers who didn't trust each other. Mysterious guards and orderlies in gray dogged me night and day. And doctors trained me to be like a circus act. I hated being ten years old. 

My nightmare consisted of the same old stuff. I ran through a dark forest at night. The gnarled branches stretched toward the purple sky like skeletal hands of corpses. Noises around me resembled snarling beasts. Predators hunted me. 

No matter where I ran, menacing jaws snapped at my feet. When I looked back, gray wolves with black eyes chased after me. I was never fast enough to escape them; I always tripped and fell. And they would drag me back into the shadows, kicking and screaming for help that would never come.

When I woke up, Yvenne was gripping my forearm. I bolted upright, startled and sweating. The forest turned back into a dingy old car. Nothing bit at my feet except the cold. I swallowed, trying to get moisture back into my mouth. Salivate, salivate, damn it. The coppery stale taste in my mouth, the sort you got when you woke up in the morning, forced me to look around the floor of the backseat for a water bottle. 

Anything to get this taste out of my mouth.

"I'm surprised that I actually slept in a moving vehicle. How long was I out?" I asked, still rummaging amongst the junk. We really had to clean out this car.

"Vinny, are you okay?" Yvenne asked me. She reached for my face and wiped off a bead of sweat on my brow.

I jerked away. Without looking up, I shook off the horrible dream and replied, "I told you not to and you're still letting him drive?"

"It's easy! The only problem is reaching the pedals, Vinny!" Faleron insisted. I lifted my head and glanced at his feet. Sure enough, an aerosol spray can was attached to the bottom of his right shoe. Yvenne smiled apologetically at me. She cleared her throat.

"Vince, are you sure you're okay? You were twisting and turning back there like someone had killed you, or… or at least tried to."

I grabbed Faleron's shoulder. "Squirt, stop the car. I'm driving." I finally found a bottle of some fruit flavored drink and gulped it down. "Yuck. What is this stuff?"

"Vinny?"

"Next time, buy fruit punch, like normal people. Banana! As a drink? Yuck." I screwed the cap back on and threw the bottle down.

"Vinny, what did you dream about?!" 

"_It was nothing, Yvenne!_ _Get off my case!_" I bellowed. 

No one spoke after my outburst. They were either scared of me or embarrassed for me. My mind could not differentiate between the two. Faleron braked slowly and pulled onto the side of the road. He removed the can from the bottom of his shoe, opened the door, and hopped out. 

I was glad that we had not crashed, but I was still very angry with myself and with them, though I had no reason to be. Never mind my mood, the little boy and I switched places without further argument. He didn't seem too frightened, just confused. He couldn't understand why a grown-up like me would suddenly yell like that. Sheltered little fool. 

While I adjusted the seat and the mirrors, Yvenne gathered her wits and spoke. "You can talk to us, if you want, man. We'll listen. That's what friends do, right?"

I wouldn't know.

"There's nothing to talk about," I replied finally. I shifted out of park and we continued on our way.

The roads were surrounded by an expanse of empty field. The grass was wilted in many places. It looked repulsive and decayed like death. It was nothing like how summer was supposed to be. Summer was livelier. During that season, the grass grew long and bright green like emeralds. They ought to call these places Emerald Fields. But they're dull now. Dull and as dim as fake costume jewelry. How could that be? It's summer, isn't it?

Ominous, threatening clouds filled the dark sky. The rain would wash away the ugliness I felt. It was good for that purpose. Afterwards, the world soaked it all in. Everything smelled fresh and new like spring—no matter what season of the year it was. I welcomed the rain. I wanted to absorb it all in and be new again.

We entered a small town out of the way of civilization. I doubted that it was even worth searching, but who knew? It never hurt to ask. Small communities like this would remember if a baby had been lost or given up. Everyone knew everyone else, correct?

"There's nothing here. Let's move on," Yvenne urged me. "I know this sounds weird, but I need a crowded, urban, and dirty place! This is like… down on the farm with Old McDonald." She shuddered.

Faleron squeezed between both of us and pointed. "Look! Actual horses! _Real_ horses!"

Quadrupeds. Hooves. Shapely, muscled legs and powerful flanks. Long faces. Gentle eyes. The kid was right. They were _real_ horses... unless I'm completely mistaken and those are the most repulsive cows on the face of this planet. 

"Can I help you, Mister?"  A man with a straw hat leaned up against our car, seeing as we'd stopped in the middle of the road of their fair community. He chewed on a stalk of grain sticking out the side of his mouth.

"Um, yes! We're passing through and we're looking for a place to stay while the storm goes by. The roof isn't what it used to be." I pointed at the convertible's top. It was true. We were certainly lucky it hadn't rained yet or else we'd be swimming and driving at the same time, if you catch my drift.

"Oh, sure! No problem," the man said. He had a rustic accent, but it was nice. I seriously liked it. Honest, simple farming folk. _Rich_, simple farming folk.

Did I mention that all farmers are by statistic, very rich men? They own large farms, robotically _and_ human operated to produce the mass amount of food that we "city slickers" eat. And in this day and age of overpopulation and starvation, they get paid handsomely for it. This includes the huge subsidies the government pays them to not produce _too_ much food and drive the national crop price down. Damn. These men never looked like it, but they were swimming in nobles. A grin crept onto my face without knowing it. This man leaning on my rusty car door could easily make more money a week than I do a whole month.

_Well, slap me into the saddle and call me a cowboy…_

"So, do you think you can help us out, kind Sir?" I asked, mustering up my most charming and pleasant voice. Faleron and Yvenne exchanged suspicious glances. I couldn't see them, but I knew what they were thinking.

The man scratched his chin. "There's an—"

"Inn down the road?"

"Well, how in the world did you know I was going to say that?" The man put both hands on his hips. "You can't even see the darned thing until you go over the hill!"

Whoops. "Oh, lucky guess. Thank you, Sir!"

"No… no problem," the man replied, still perplexed and frowning.

When we were moving again, Yvenne moved to pinch my arm. My hand shot out automatically and captured her wrist. I slowed down as I glanced back and forth from her and the road. "What is it?"

"You tell us," Faleron huffed. Yvenne nodded in agreement.

I growled low in my throat. "This town is small and rich. If I can find where they hang out and ask them for one or two games of poker, I'm sure to get a lot of winnings. These folk are proud and stubborn, too. They won't quit while they're ahead."

Yvenne snorted. "How do _you_ know?"

Whoops again. "I just do! Now give me a break! Why are you two so in my face today?"

"Because you're freaking us out, Vinny! That's why! First with your stupid nap, thrashing around like a chicken with its head cut off! Then just now with that farmer!" She folded her arms and gave me her dirtiest look as of yet. 

"T'is the way of a conman, Yvenne. Thought you would have figured that out." I rubbed my eyes, a stressful motion; nothing was really wrong with my eyes. We coasted slowly down the hill. I pulled into the inn's meager parking lot and turned off the engine. "You've got nothing to be freaked out about."

Oh, what I wouldn't do to be on my own just now. I ought to give her another reason to throw me out of the car. Despite her hard-headedness, I didn't think she'd do it. She didn't want to be responsible for a car she can't take care of and a kid she can't figure out. And Yvenne seriously believed the illusion that we could almost trust each other now.

"Look. You see? That overhang shades the car. Let's go inside," I said to them and stuck my hand behind the backseat. Faleron handed me two bags, his and mine. I got up and pulled the seat forward so he could climb out. After shutting the door, he automatically reached for my free hand as if I were his teacher or parent. I rolled my eyes and decided to tolerate it for the time being. 

The inn was a two story barn-shaped building made of red brick painted white all over. A wooden sign hung over the large doorway, and little finger paintings of cows covered the walls. The innkeeper had a kid who was Faleron's age. I could see him in my mind, if not with my eye. 

He was about to run across our path and skid into the wooden door, hitting his shoulder really hard. The dog—a little, brown Pomeranian—would also appear and skid into the door. 

I sighed. Faleron looked up at me. "What is it?"

"Nothing."

A short blur ran in front of us.

"Oof!" That poor door…

Another blur.

"Arf!" Again, that poor door…

Yvenne cringed. "Hey, kid! Are you okay?"

The boy rubbed his shoulder. His cheeks were red with embarrassment. "Fine, Miss!" He shoved the door while turning the handle. It finally gave way and allowed the boy entrance. The whimpering dog trotted behind him, waiting for a chance to leap into a person's lap. It didn't matter whose.

We entered without a problem since the door had been left open. I shut it behind me. The inside of the inn was very quaint. The furnishings of the lobby were in brown and peach, with little dashes of a rusty dark red that matched everything else perfectly. Little wooden carvings painted like farm animals covered the mantle. Photographs of places around the small town, black and white, lined the walls. 

It had a nice, lived-in feeling. It was like coming home.

Yvenne plopped down on an armchair. She caressed the crocheted chair cover and seemed at ease. Faleron continued to pull me by the hand toward the front desk.

A middle-aged woman with gray streaks in her dark brown hair smiled at me. She leaned over and touched her fingertip to Faleron's nose—her way of saying 'hello' to kids.

"What can I do you for?" she asked with the same accent as the man in the road. Nice.

"I'd like a room with two twin beds. Twenty-eight nobles a night, right?"

She blinked at me. "Oh, yes." She looked behind her, to see the sign. "Are you staying for more than one night?"

I'd never looked at the sign. I grinned anyway. "Um, we just might. Is it okay for me to pay again tomorrow if we do stay?"

The woman nodded. "No problem. If you could just sign here, I'll ring you up at the register and have Bernin show you to your room."

I dropped Faleron's hand and reached for my wallet, already in my pocket and not you-know-where. I laid the money on the desktop and signed the gray pad set there with an electronic pen. The flat screen behind the desk was turned toward me. It automatically picked up my signature and logged it.

"Bernin!" the woman called. "Where did that boy run off to?"

"He followed the dog down the hall, Ma'am." I pointed to my right. It was true. And I could have seen it. My gift was working in overdrive today. I liked to think that it was because of the rain and not because my nightmare had stimulated the right neurons. Alas, the nightmare part was true. Every time I had one, my gift would work more often and I would indulge it even more. 

The rain? Well, it could be possible. Just like the effect the moon had on a werewolf. Except if I climbed onto the desktop and howled right now, I'm pretty sure I'd get kicked out.

Faleron tugged my hand. I looked down. "You hungry?"

He nodded, wide-eyed. It didn't take superpowers to guess what usually went around kids' minds. Although for an eleven-year old, Faleron wasn't just about the little stuff. Smart-aleck whiz kid was the term I believe Yvenne used.

Speak of the devil—she was still on the armchair, glaring at me as if I were an impostor. I avoided her gaze and looked through the little welcome guide sitting on the desktop for restaurants. Faleron, bored out of his mind, started swinging on my hand. Let him do what he wants. He doesn't try to get into my head unlike _some_ people.

The boy named Bernin and his Pomeranian came back down the hall. His mother leaned over the desktop and handed him a key. He nodded, picked up as many of our bags as he could, and started down the hall. We followed him upstairs to our room.

The room was as quaintly decorated as the lobby. It was annoying, but it suited our needs, so I let it go. I set down my bags, reached into my pocket, and tipped the boy. He muttered a shy 'thank you' and bound back downstairs. The dog barked once at me and followed his master. 

I hate dogs. I'm pretty sure that they hate me, too.

"Okay, let's go eat and then come straight back here to sleep. It's an easy walk. Sound good to you?" I asked.

"Sure!" He paused. His little hand let go of mine and fiddled with his shirt buttons. He had hardly any other clothing besides his school uniform. "Isn't there anything fun or adventurous we could do here? Visit animals, maybe?"

"We'll see," I replied. I wanted to say outright that we were _not_ going to see any animals, but that would presumably start a tantrum. And I have little tolerance for children throwing tantrums. I turned toward her. "Yvenne, come on. Let's go eat."

She didn't speak a word to me and exited the room. Faleron reclaimed my hand and swung our arms back and forth. I didn't seem to notice much. All I could think about was what my gift kept whispering to me.

_Yvenne Noble will confront you. She suspects._

This gift can be a pain in the ass sometimes. A you're-sitting-on-a-bed-of-needles pain in the ass. 

The rain began pouring down. I went to the innkeeper and asked her if we might borrow an umbrella. The woman was more than happy to oblige her guests. I opened up the umbrella and led my companions across the street. Halfway across, Faleron decided to run ahead and see if he could find any little side adventures on the way to the restaurant.

This was the only time I had wished the little twerp had stayed. Now I was alone with the suspicious one. She hugged her arms around herself to keep warm.

"Are you going to try and weasel a game or two out of the people here?"

I shrugged. "Maybe."

"You should. We always need money."

The back of my head began to tingle. Before I knew what I was doing, my hand reached out and touched her arm, halting her beside under the umbrella. A few seconds later, Faleron rounded the corner toward us and jumped into a puddle. Mud splattered in our path, but not on us. The boy smiled, resumed a more dignified gait, and preceded us to the restaurant doors, shaking off his school blazer and stomping the dirt off his shoes.

"You're weird," she said. 

We passed through the swinging doors of the country restaurant and waited at the front register. I had closed the umbrella and was shaking it off at the doormat so it didn't drip while inside. Faleron bent over to examine a plaque placed low on a wall filled with them.

"Why am I weird?" I asked, pretending to be very disinterested in her mood.

Yvenne pouted. "I can't explain it right. It's like… you know things without trying and you can always stop me when I try to get at you with a pinch or a poke, or pull me back when I'm about to get splashed with mud."

"If you had been paying attention, you could have heard Fal running toward us," I lied.

"Are you sure?"

"You're the one being weird," I yawned. "You're seeing things that aren't there."

The Carthaki shook her head. She rubbed her temples. "I guess I am. Bad storms bring bad moods, right?" She chuckled. "Sorry, man."

"I'll forgive you this time," I answered melodramatically. 

She snorted and rolled her eyes. A restaurant employee charged us money for the buffet. We were shown a table, given clean sparkling plates, and were welcomed to the food line. I observed my environment. There were many tables filled with just single people, or groups of people in the same sex.

Very few families. Families would be having a nice warm meal in the comfort of their own homes. The few families that were there separated into groups of married men and groups of gossiping wives while the children played near the back. The restaurant was normally where the unmarried and the blissfully alone gathered because they did not have wives or mothers or families to cook or share food with. And cooking for just your self was no fun.

After we finished dining, I introduced myself to a group of men both young and old. All had cowboy hats hanging off the corner of their chairs, and every other man wore plaid. Their faces were as similar and serious as their choice of clothing. But I was right. I could foresee them to be too proud to back down. And I was too cocky and greedy to grant them mercy.

Two of them were family men. Their wives were chatting somewhere else, and their kids were sitting at another table, playing with their food. Every now and then, one of the children would come and sit on their father's lap and stay there until the urge to play and romp took over once again. The men as a whole were very wary of letting me sit down with them, but I beckoned Faleron over. The smart little brat seemed to get the idea and mounted my knee as if he were also a small son happily watching his father.

I didn't need to look to know that Yvenne was stabbing at her plate with a fork.

"Hey, young'un. How old are you?" one of the men asked. He had small eyes and a dark gray beard. A father of four, wife dead, and very fond of his grandchildren. Sucker.

"Seven," Faleron replied in a babyish voice just as I had expected. The squirt happened to be a good actor. He was small for his age. He could pass for six if he wanted to! I made a mental note to include him on other financial ventures in the future. You never know when a fake kid is needed to soften up the opposition. 

While I dealt out the cards, the other men talked casually about recent events. A young man with a freshly shaven face squinted his eyes at me.

"Mr. Beech, I'm sorry. I didn't catch your first name."

I smiled. "Lucky. Lucky Beech." 

_Lucky __son-of-a__ Beech. _

"Oh. I don't mean to be rude, but you look kind of young to be a papa. How long have you and the Missus been married?"

I looked over my shoulder at Yvenne. Faleron fidgeted on my lap. I scooped him up by his armpits and set him on the floor. He ran back to Yvenne, acting like a little preschooler. It was perfect. "Ima and I got hitched back in high school. We just couldn't wait much longer, you see."

It took a big effort not to crack up at my own horrible inside jokes. After an hour, I had purposely lost fifty nobles, but gained two hundred fifty nobles cumulatively from all the men at the table. Faleron came back and tugged me by my pants leg. He had perfect timing. If I stayed too long and cleaned them out, I might have been caught.

"It was a pleasure playing with you fellas! Take care!" I bowed my head to them. I followed Faleron and Yvenne out. We huddled under my umbrella and made our way back to the hotel.

Yvenne smacked me on the back of the head. I let her. Any more dodging today and I might earn myself another suspicious comment. I grimaced. "What was that for?"

"I don't care if _you_ con them, but don't involve him!" She pointed down at Faleron, who was counting the winnings.

"Why not? He has to pull his weight around here, just like us." I narrowed my eyes. "And when did _you_ become his mother, huh?"

"Oh, I don't know," she sarcastically retorted, "you're the one telling those dunces we married young. You should know when we conceived him, oh master storyteller."

Faleron placed the money back in my palm. I pocketed it and glanced over my shoulder. The restaurant was behind us, but the men I had played cards with had a nice view from the front window. 

"You might want to hand the umbrella to Yvenne and pick me up. I'm getting muddy from the knee down here and they're still looking," Faleron suggested. We stopped in the middle of the street. I had to hand it to the kid. He knew his stuff.

"You heard the little man." I shoved the umbrella handle toward Yvenne. She glared at me just as hard as she had earlier, except for totally different reasons. Faleron on the other hand, looked very smug as I picked him up. I let him hang around my neck and feet dug in around my waist as I halfheartedly tried to hold him up.

I groaned. "For cryin' out loud, if this is what being a father is, I'm never having kids. You're too little to weigh this much, squirt!"

"They're still looking," my female companion sang.

I let out a deep breath and sighed. "Let's just get back to the inn."

Increasingly richer, we returned to our room. My back was aching from lying down in the backseat. My knee was a bit sore from having seventy pounds of useless flesh sitting on it. My jaw couldn't relax after smiling time and time again for my audience. And to top that all off, my head still throbbed with warning flashes. 

I was hurting. Sleep was in order. And to keep me asleep in this loud storm, some good ol' fashioned sleeping pills were, in this case, necessity. I went down to the lobby and asked the innkeeper if she had any. She did. While I waited, Bernin played with an imaginary friend around the lobby and the damned dog ran circles around my feet.

It takes a very in-control man not to suddenly spasm and to accidentally _kick _something orbiting his shoes. I was grateful when Bernin's mother finally picked up the Pomeranian and set him on her lap. I took her offered glass of water, downed the pills, and headed back up to my room.

Both beds were taken when I flipped on the light.

"Oh, no you don't," I said while pulling back the covers off Faleron's bed. He moaned in his sleep. I picked him up by his underarms again and placed him on the next bed. Yvenne awoke.

"Hey! First come, first serve, pal! Sleep on the floor, Vince!"

"I don't think so! I paid for this room, not you! I'm getting my own bed," I growled and dropped onto the soft duvet. I reached for the lamp and turned the lights off. Yvenne was too tired to fight back. She let Faleron stay where he lay.

The squirt did not budge. In fact, he began a tiny snore. In normal conditions, I would not be capable of abiding this, or Yvenne's grumpiness, _or_ the raging storm outside. But you see, I had _real_ sleeping pills. When I awoke tomorrow, I would not be half-awake like those poor boys in Styx. I would be rested. And happy. 

Modern medicine will never cease to amaze me. I relish its profound effects. I revel in the fact that I live in this free world—free to take drugs that would actually do me good. Free to _choose_ to take these little pills instead of being forced to swallow random capsules for non-existent illnesses. This wasn't Styx. 

Even my dream wasn't Styx. It was a close representation, but still not the real King's treasure. It was like fool's gold. It glittered and shone as dully as that infernal institution. But it wasn't. 

~~

The halls are empty. My footsteps echo on the pristine tile floor. The glare of the lights cause me to squint. Where am I going? When would I get there? _Would_ I get there? My eyes hurt. I rub at them and blink. 

Hmm. Since when are my hands so small?

I glance over my shoulder. There is a trail of bright red strawberry syrup on the floor. I like strawberry syrup. No, that isn't right. You're a kid again, Vinny, but you're not stupid. Oh, yeah. It's blood. Your blood. The remains of a metal cuff around my wrist clink when I shake my arm. The blood splatters in tiny drops on the floor from my arm. I had tried a bit too hard to get the metal cuff off, I think.

Silence. I look before me and behind me. No one is coming. Does this mean I actually have a chance? Where are the Gray Men? I can't understand why they aren't here, restraining me and taking me back to my ward. They ought to be here! That's what they get paid for, isn't it?

I sigh and trudge on. The hall lasts forever, but I'll get there eventually, right? I'm clairvoyant. I can see where the Gray Men will be waiting to catch me. And then I'll just go the opposite way.

My brain knows the way out. The way was only meant for me. That's why it's my gift and no one else's. Those boys never did anything for me. I tried showing them. We weren't living inside Styx. This wasn't living. Day to day tricks and tests… The confinement and isolation of the group... Did they listen to me? No! I _tried_. I've only got the time and guts to be looking out for Number One. Survival of the freaking fittest.

My feet move faster and faster. Before I know it, I'm running as fast as these little feet can take me. My chest heaves. I breathe hard through my mouth and hear the jangle of the twisted pieces of metal around my wrist. 

There's a door. I have to know the password. Of course I know the password.

It's 'death'.

_"You're very welcome here. Are you sure you don't want to stay, little Coram? Where else will you be safe from the world?"_

I don't know. But it has to be safer out there than in here with you. I don't like you. That shiny thing in your pocket—it hurts. It stings and it bites like monster teeth. I don't like monsters. They're in my nightmares. 

_"I_ am _a monster..."_

The door to the outside opens. I step through without another thought. Anywhere is better than here with you. It's dark on the other side. This is the world? Is it always this cold and dark? Where's the sun? I heard there was sun here! Why is there a wailing and grinding of teeth?

~~

Pain.

I sat up from my bed, covered in cold sweat and breathing like I could never get enough air. My hand automatically went over my heart, as if claws had ripped at my chest to get at it and devour it whole. What's happened to me?

_Get a grip, man._ I closed my eyes and tried to calm my fevered gulps for air. Apparently, sleeping pills are no match for the dreams of the crazed. My mind was too strong to be dulled by modern medicine. My brain was beyond all medicine.

"Vince?"

I hadn't been expecting that. I gave a little gasp and jerked my head to the side. A bolt of lightning appeared in the sky and lit the window. I saw Yvenne's outline, also sitting up. I didn't need to see her face to tell that she was a bit concerned.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up," I muttered.

"Are you okay?" she asked. Her voice floated like glowing fireflies to me in the darkness.

I let out a deep shuddering breath. No. I wasn't okay.

"I… I had a bad dream," I said finally.

There was a rustle of movement. Suddenly, arms embraced me and a warm, soft cheek pressed against my clammy forehead. Fingers brushed up and down my back, trying to soothe and rid my body of its tremors. I closed my eyes. 

Storms and nightmares. They're essentially the same thing. The storms come. They scare and harass with shows of lightning bolts and thunder. The strongest ones can wreck the foundations of your life, whether it's material or spiritual. They're torrents of energy, hurled down upon the earth to nourish it with water. And when it's done, the earth absorbs it in and becomes new. 

I become new.

~~

Author: I hope you enjoyed that one! I was never quite sure of the whole mood of this episode, but I think it turned out decent enough. I'm quite aware that Vinny and Yvenne's fake names are a bit… odd. I think it's odder that I actually allowed myself to write Faleron pretending to be Vinny's son. Impulses. Sheesh. You know I hate them. 

So, tell me what you think! Whether it is by review or email, feedback is very appreciated!


	4. Secret Agent Man

The Gift

Episode 4: Secret Agent Man

_By Sulia Serafine_

_This is an ALTERNATE UNIVERSE fic. This is the sequel series to It Could Be Worse, which will end with season 4. NOTE: You can read it if you have not read ICBW. It's possible. You won't get the foreshadowing and the cameos, but you will, eventually. I'd explain them. Credit goes to Tamora Pierce. I'm broke, so you can't sue me. Any other copyrighted things that don't belong to me in here in fact belong to other very businesslike people. Could you believe that? I guess that's why I'm broke._

~~

_Winston's Log, Day 31:_

The days are hot, humid and most of all—perilous. I predict that I shall drop dead at any moment, falling prey to the merciless, bloodthirsty predators of this mysterious new world that I have unwittingly stumbled into…

_Okay…_

Reality check. 

Once again, I had been napping in the backseat of the convertible, while we drove toward some unknown destination. By the position of the sun, I assumed we were going south. What was south? I had no idea. I should have known. But then again, that's why they call it _wandering_.

My muscles were stiff from the position I slept in. Trying to eliminate the tension I felt in my back, I began stretching as far as I could in the confined space. A pair of inquisitive sapphire eyes watched me from the front passenger seat. 

"Yes, Faleron?" I droned

"When are we going to have our adventure?" he asked almost accusingly, as if I was to blame.

I sat up and searched for prepackaged food in one of three paper bags. The car was more organized ever since we finally decided what would be stored in the trunk. Trying to look preoccupied with my task, I also partially hoped that ignoring the boy's question would ultimately force him to turn around and shut up. Unfortunately, he wouldn't. 

"All that we've done is drift around Mithros! What's the purpose of this trip? You _will_ tell me!" Faleron demanded. The authority with which he spoke seemed out of place, considering his high-pitched, childish voice. He truly must be the grandson of the Vice President to have the guts to speak up like that.

"Yvenne is trying to avoid a guy named Donelly, who wants to kill her, and I just happen to be our tour guide. That's all there is. There's no adventure," I answered smoothly. "If we stayed in one place, the DJPF would find us and charge us for kidnapping _you_."

The boy rolled his eyes. He turned around in his seat and began fiddling with his seatbelt. "You underestimate them. They'd find you even if we weren't staying in one place. They're tough. I should know."

Yvenne grinned, but did not take her eyes off the road. "Uh-oh. Looks like someone's a juvenile delinquent."

"I know because most of my parents' friends are in the DJPF! Both sets of my godparents are officers!"

That wiped the smile off Yvenne's face. She almost looked panicky, which was pretty unusual for someone as wildly confident as her. Her eyes darted back and forth from the road to our young friend. "You're bluffing."

"He's not," I sighed, wondering idly if it would look too weird if I started banging my head against the side of the car's interior.

"Don't worry. As long as we have a grand adventure, I won't let them near you!" Faleron promised. His words did nothing to ease Yvenne's mind.

She muttered incoherently to herself. "Don't worry, he says. I won't let them near you, he says! Ha!"

I refrained from making a sarcastic comment about her ramblings. It just wasn't worth the smack I was bound to receive. Instead, I concentrated on my breakfast and wondered if there was a rest stop within a mile or two where rows of glorious vending machines awaited me. Never look down upon vending machines. They can hold the best, lowest-priced food in the world—just the sort of thing a cheapskate like me needs.

Two and three quarters of an hour later, we stared at a large billboard posted beside the road.

"Welcome to Maren."

"I know lots about Maren! It's a large place, just scattered about so you have to take a highway or a Federal road everywhere you go!" Faleron piped up. I had an urge to stuff his mouth full of something so he would stop talking, but I foresaw that both my companions would be give me grief for it. All this…and I hadn't deserted them yet. Beats the hell out of me, too.

Yvenne pointed ahead. "Hey, Vinny—"

"A theme park with a place for the kids and a place for the adults. Yeah, I know. That sign up ahead is for the entrance."

"Whoa, are you farsighted or something? I can hardly make out the words," she mumbled. "So, do you want to take a break for the day and go? There's gambling and drinks, I bet."

My lips curled into a sly smile. "Oh, but of course. But I want to go into downtown Maren and do some personal errands."

Faleron frowned. "What sort of personal errands?"

"I can't tell you, Squirt. That's why they're personal."

He glared at me and started looking out the window at the theme park. The natural barriers of trees and hills made it difficult to see anything but high roller coasters reaching up into the air.

When we arrived and entered, Yvenne made an agreement with me. I loved bargaining with her. I always knew what exactly to bribe and offer, thanks to you-know-what, and I must say that I snatched the better end of the deal. 

We would spend a good portion of daylight relaxing and taking Faleron around to the rides and attractions. During the afternoon, I would take over kiddie patrol while Yvenne contacted her stockbroker and other such important people who kept her well financed. 

Then, I would be allowed to try my luck in the adult bars and game rooms for the rest of the night. We would check into a hotel sometime around midnight and I wouldn't have to pay if I didn't make a large sum of money. (And she would never find out how much money I really had since the "Hands-off Pants" Decree was still in effect.)

Most importantly, the next day I was not to be hassled about whatever my personal errands were. A whole night to myself… I'd almost forgotten what it felt like to walk somewhere and not have two whiny voices yapping right next to my ear. Privacy is all I could ever ask of Yvenne and Faleron. They've disregarded this unspoken request many times, but when it came down to it, they didn't push me any farther than they would like themselves to be pushed.

If this is what friendship was, then I thought I just might survive. If it had consisted of all the idealistic, wonderfully impossible things that I've read in my books, I didn't believe I'd be capable of adjusting to them. I wasn't the sort that feels naturally comfortable about expressing my emotions to others.

I felt my overactive mind predict Yvenne's thoughts after we had been in that farming town. She was starting to get too close for comfort for me; she doesn't seem to look at it that way. What a nightmare that would be if we actually talked about that night in the faming town! I simply wasn't ready. When will I be? It's the one thing I'll never be able to foresee.

~~

"Is it me or is that oversized carrot following us?"

"He's a Buddy-Veggie, Vinny. From that Holoscreen show meant to teach kids to eat right," Yvenne answered, trying to appear tolerant of the imitation vegetable with cartoon plastic eyes and umbrella-like green top. She imagined herself standing under the carrot for protection from the rain. Contrary to her daydream, the sun was hot and there were no clouds in sight.

I poked Faleron in the shoulder. A tingle on my neck told me that I was going to be snapped at, but I couldn't help it. "Want to have your picture taken with the Buddy-Weggie or the Cruddy-Veggie or whatever?"

He glared at me. "Since I know you're asking me out of spite and not out of good intentions, I'll have to insist you take the picture with me."

My hand slapped him on the back. The squirt was okay, sometimes. In the future, I saw that he'd always be a little small for his age, but that matured mouth of his would be able to tell off anyone that gave him lip. 

"This is a nice change of pace," Yvenne commented, taking a deep breath of air. An almost imperceptible bounce was added to each of her steps, creating a young woman whom neither Faleron nor myself had ever seen before. All things put aside-- it scared me.

"What?" she asked when she perkily turned around, inquiring why we had halted.

"You were humming the opening song to Sesame Street."

"No, I wasn't."

"Yes, you were," we replied simultaneously.

She stopped bouncing and humming after that and scowled whenever we teased her about it. The majority of the morning was spent wandering. We occasionally rode an attraction that jostled us about in a small cart or we tried our luck at winning stuffed animals. I refused to lug around a large pink thing of cotton and polyester nylon, so I missed all my hoop shots on purpose. The rubber ball bounced off the rim and Yvene caught the rebound.

"Man, you're terrible. I wanted that stuffed Coldfang." She gazed up at the soft plushie. 

I shrugged. What was that supposed to do? Make me feel guilty? Yeah, right. I don't think so.

"Well what are you waiting for?" she scolded and smacked the back of my head. It was a growing habit of mine to force myself to stay still rather than dodge what I knew was coming. 

My hand reached into my pocket for another Noble. I'd win this time and get her off my back. Let it be known that I'm not usually so easy to coerce, but some days, no matter how bright they are, I don't like being messed with. The faster I completely this request, the sooner I would be allowed to do whatever I wanted again. I handed my money to the theme park employee and took the rubber ball into my hands. My arms raised and poised to shoot when, suddenly, my Gift struck me down.

Ever imagined what it would be like to have a gun fired right beside your ear?

Yeah. Try that multiplied by a hundred.

The ball dropped from my hands and I jerked back as if shoved by some invisible force. My head was ringing and I was too shocked to put my hands over my ears. My companions steadied me.

"Hey, are you okay? What's wrong?" Yvenne asked me. She had both hands against my back, propping me up like I might fall over at any second like a bowling pin. 

Faleron picked up the rubber ball and put it down on the counter. "Vinny?"

I blinked my eyes rapidly, trying to calm myself down. I rarely reacted so strongly to any of my abilities. Fear crept into my heart as I attempted to decipher the images replaying themselves in my head. My body trembled with the unfamiliarity of the circumstances.

"Maybe you should sit down," Yvenne prompted.

"No. I'm okay. It's nothing." I picked up the ball and without really concentrating, tossed it at the metal hoop on the backboard. It went in, swooshing through the net and never touching the rim once. The attendant at the hoop retrieved the ball and a stuffed Coldfang from the rack above. He handed it to the short ex-bookie with a fake cheerful expression.

Yvenne let Faleron hold onto her prize as we walked toward a water fountain. Against my insistences, they made me sit and take a break. And for once, I didn't fight back as much as I could have. I put one shaking hand to my forehead. I couldn't suppress it. And worst of all, I couldn't feel any pain. There was no control for me over my own limbs. I willed my body to remain still as a statue, but shivers went up and down my spine.

My mouth was dry, but I forced myself to speak. In a coarse voice, I croaked, "Squirt, come here."

The young boy scooted closer while Yvenne, trying not to appear offended at her exclusion, leaned away with her eyes downcast. I thought to myself that I shouldn't alienate her, being a source of money like she was, but much more important things occupied my mind.

"What's wrong, Vinny?"

I placed a hand on his shoulder, meant to reassure him of any ailment he imagined had conquered me. He relaxed a bit. His smile was full of relief and gratefulness. And at that moment, I saw in his mind that I had become the wandering knight in his imaginary storybook land. I was his hero. 

How could _I_ be anyone's hero? 

Ignoring the mental image of myself sitting astride a white stallion, I cut to the chase. "What district do your godparents live in? Where do they work?" It wasn't that difficult to sound nonchalant and refreshed from my rest at the fountain side. "Well?"

His small button of a nose twitched. "They travel." He frowned. "Why?"

"Nothing. Just killing time," I muttered. I dragged my hand over my face. There was nothing left to do but wait the extra five minutes at the fountain. It wasn't as if we hadn't had fun already. Yes. We'd had our fun. Now it was back to business. 

Faleron clutched the stuffed Coldfang closer to him. He hopped off the fountain ledge and approached Yvenne, leaning against her knee and whispering something that I assumed to be his concern for me. She didn't betray his confidence by glancing at me. Instead, she bent down, brushed a sisterly kiss on his forehead, and scooped him up onto her knee.

For a boy as intelligent and refined as him, he certainly had no qualms about resting on the lap of a gorgeous young lady as if he were truly as young as he appeared. I remained a short distance away from them, lost in my own thoughts.

My eyes looked up from my shoes only a split second before a masculine voice spoke. I knew what was about to happen, but I had yet to figure out why its earlier announcement had shaken me to my core.

"Faleron? Is that you?"

The boy slid off Yvenne's thighs, turning around and staring saucer-eyed at two strangers. They were a man and a woman. The man possessed bright red hair and dark green eyes. He was taller than me, most definitely, and broad shouldered. He might have been very slim in his youth, but a decade or so had made him into a solid foundation not to be pushed over. His female companion owned a fair pale complexion with midnight black hair and shining deep blue eyes. She was as aged as her male counterpart, being perhaps in her mid thirties, but slender and curvaceous as a spry, giggling schoolgirl.

Both were dressed in all black. It was this that set off the alarms in my head. The images from before replayed themselves in my mind. DJPF officers—spies, to be specific—had seen Faleron from across the way and had come to investigate. They were not just there because the boy was the Vice President's missing grandson. No. 

He was _their_ Godson, too. And oh, I could have lived peacefully without knowing that. But since I did, I tensed my muscles, trying to foresee any need of my fighting skill. But of course, against these high-ranked, undercover officers… I was way out of my league.

"Hello, Uncle Cleon. Hi, Auntie Kalasin," Faleron said in a faint, abashed voice. 

"What are you doing here?" the redheaded man exclaimed at once, marching forward and placing his hands on his hips in the regulatory lecture-fashion. He didn't bother looking at me or at Yvenne. He didn't see us as a threat. Normally, I would be insulted, but better to be insulted by a DJPF officer than arrested and jailed up by one.

The kid tried his best to keep face during the awkward confrontation. "I'm having a little vacation with my friends, Uncle."

The proclaimed 'uncle' stared at the short boy in front of him with a mixture of emotions crossing his face. He finally shook his head and crouched down to Faleron's level. "You don't know these people. How could you go off with them and not tell anyone? Do you know how worried your parents have been ever since they heard from your chaperone?"

"I'm sorry, Uncle! I didn't mean to stir up any trouble!" 

It was quite a feat _not_ to eavesdrop on them. So I didn't feel entirely awful that I was hearing everything clearly and storing it in my memory for later reference. I'm sure Yvenne was doing the same. The woman, who I assumed was Kalasin, remained where she was, like a sentinel.

"Faleron—"

"I did have good reason!" Here, he lowered his voice. "I saw him play at cards, Uncle. It's just like Dad always told me… you know how he described the ease at which—"

Cleon closed his eyes and shook his head. "You're too smart for your age to listen to your father's stories and take them so literally. They happened, but they're over and done with." He lifted his head again and gazed sternly at his Godson. "You shouldn't try to re-enact anything that we did when we were younger. When we did those things, we were still so much older than you are right now."

"I know, it's just… I couldn't pass up the chance. Didn't you ever feel like that, Uncle? Like there was only one chance and you just had to take it?"

The man stood up to his full height. He turned to the woman and announced, "I need to have a private talk with him. Will you stay here with… them?"

"Be quick. This wasn't the only thing we came here for." The woman fixed us with a disdainful glare. Having now heard her voice for the first time, I found it to be deep and filled with something raw and alluring. But at the same time, it commanded such emotionless authority that I found it impossible to be attracted to the sound.

Cleon and Faleron walked away from us, taking shelter under the shade of a palm tree. Yvenne looked like she wanted to storm over there and demand some answers from the redhead, but what else was there to know? It was a known fact that Faleron had run away on his own free will. The two DJPF officers had perfectly good reasons to take him back home.

Worrying didn't make a difference since I knew what the outcome of the private family drama would be. But personally, I continued to consider what might have happened anyway. Faleron would be taken home. He'd beg for no charges to be pressed against us, and his adoring Godparents would not mind letting us go. Yvenne and I would be alone again, snapping at each other like we always do. She would always be wary of casinos and their owners. I would hide my personal agenda like one hides a dirty little secret. We'd wander aimlessly for the rest of our lives at that rate.

"Vince," Yvenne whispered.

"Everything is going to be fine. Just fine," I told her impatiently. And why wouldn't it be? It's not like we would lose anything we really cared about. The truth was, I didn't want to care that much. Why did Yvenne suddenly think she could go to me for comfort? 

I hated it. I didn't want to be anyone's emotional crutch. The life that I had accustomed myself to had disappeared overnight, through no real fault of my own. Ugliness festered in the pits of my stomach and I felt the urge to dunk my head in the fountain beside me.

When the two had come back from their intimate chat, the woman known only to me as Kalasin still had not spoken a word to either or us, nor budged an inch from her spot. She vaguely reminded me of an unattached nurse watching over her patients with a cruel critical eye. But we weren't any sick persons with need of care. We just needed to be guarded while the mock "father-son" talk was underway.

"Where are his things? We should send him back as soon as possible with an escort," Kalasin began. Her impatience and practicality had a tinge of ice to it. How in the world is it that a man such as Cleon came to be partnered to one who did not falter under his soft, smoldering gaze? I did not think they suited each other, but it was no business of my own.

Cleon affectionately brushed a hand over Faleron's shiny black hair. His mood had transformed from protective to morose, like a secret magical spell had cursed his heart and sent him into melancholy. 

His hand jerked up from his Godson's head, almost as if he had forced himself. I stepped forward. His foreboding actions confirmed my guess that he wished to talk with me alone as well.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name," he said softly.

"Cleon, what are you doing?" Kalasin demanded, her eyebrows coming together and her brow creasing. She seemed ready to pick up Faleron herself and take the redhead by the ear.

Yvenne, uncharacteristically tender in voice, moved closer. "What is it?"

"Just a few questions," I told her. My eyes locked onto the dark green ones of my inquirer. He slowly walked back toward the tree where he had been a few minutes previous. I followed without fear. I was glad for my gift. Foreboding atmospheres such as this would often scare or create anxiety in normal men and women. 

It was like a play where only I knew the script.

"Your name?" he asked me again.

"Vinny," I replied. It crossed my mind to volunteer Yvenne's name as well. But it's a good rule never to supply more information than asked for. What he didn't know couldn't possibly hurt him.

Cleon nodded and leaned his back against the tree. He was already halfway to trusting me. I imagined a great man like him intimidating the evilest of people, yet here he was relaxed against a palm tree in Southern Mithros. His voice held neither malice nor suspicion.

"He wants to stay with you. I don't know what to make of it," he said.

"And you think I do?" 

"Faleron is a very smart boy. He's resourceful and capable of so much. With all the possibilities his future holds, at the present, he wants to continue traveling with you." He made apparent a note of disbelief. Yeah, I would be most likely be that way, too, if I had a nephew or someone involved.

I placed my hands calmly in my pockets. "Will you let him?"

"Will you have him?"

"I haven't thrown him out of the car yet, have I?"

With each word spoken, the man before me sunk more into his own thoughts. He glanced at me. Then, he stared at a random spot on the ground. Eventually, he lifted his head and smiled.

"If you would so kindly answer some questions."

"Depends."

"On what?"

"If you're asking as a Godfather or an Officer. I know my rights. I can find a lawyer within 24 hours."

He was deterred from his original request. "Oh. Well, I'm asking because Faleron means a lot to me. I don't have children. He's the closest thing I have to a son, and I'd appreciate some truthful answers."

"Go ahead." I had nothing to fear. Remember: this whole scene has already played itself out in my head.

"First, how old are you?"

"Seventeen," I answered without hesitation. There was no need for me to lie to this man, and his nature wouldn't allow him to look down upon me because of my age. He would treat me as an adult, whether his partner would or not.

He seemed satisfied with the answer. "Are any of the motivations or details of your 'road trip' in any way connected to drugs, alcohol, theft, prostitution, and/or treason?"

The question could have been taken off a survey. I smirked and shook my head. "Neither will there be any tattoos, piercings, and/or any body alterations for the members of my party, thank you."

"Mm-hmm," Cleon nodded. He squinted up at the sky. "If one hair on his head is harmed, you know I won't rest until I've hunted you down, right?"

"Yes, Sir."

He let out a deep breath. "Then have him home before school starts and I won't mention this day to his parents." He scratched his chin. "His mother is going to _kill_ me if she ever finds out."

"Shouldn't you be more worried about his father?"

The chuckle was immediate. "In comparison with Lalasa? Oh, but you're a funny one. When the vacation is over, come to Tortall for a bit. Just for laughs, okay?"

"Gladly, Sir." I spotted Yvenne trying to strike up a conversation with the female spy. All her attempts were being shot down like enemy fighter planes. Crash and burn. "If you don't mind me saying, your partner seems a bit… preoccupied… or _something_."

"We had other plans here. You and the other one were a surprise, showing up here with little Fal." He shrugged. 

My senses tingled. The tiny blond hairs stood up on the back of my neck. I now knew why my reaction had been so strong—why I'd trembled and shook with a weakness I'd never felt before. The mixed emotions and troubled thoughts of this man had been sent into me. And it was worse than being hit by a train. Why did he feel like that? Why did I care?

I cared because I felt it, too. I didn't want to care about Faleron or Yvenne. I certainly wished not to care about that woman named Kalasin. But this man… he was like an old friend I had not seen in a long time. Like a high school buddy who had fallen into hard times when he actually had all he needed in the world. 

"You're not suited for each other. It doesn't seem like it," I said boldly.

His eyebrows rose, caught off guard by the observation. He gazed across the sparse crowd at the dark haired woman who had accompanied him there. "Not much anymore." He chuckled again. An inner light glowed brighter within him as he recalled the past. "I was stark raving mad about her. And then things… matured."

"Oh?" _Tell me. Tell me because I want to know why I'm experiencing your gut-wrenching sadness. Why does it haunt you?_

"I still care deeply about her. Love need not always be expressed through physical actions." He paused and said decisively, "She is a good companion for me."

"Just her? Don't you have any other friends?"

He frowned and it was like a horse was kicking me with its hind legs in the chest. I gasped a little, but he didn't seem to notice my physical ailment. He was lost in remembrance.

"Hmm. Kalasin's brother is Faleron's father. We don't keep in touch as much as we used to. He never meant to grow up and turn into his own father. It sort of happened overnight, and then everyone else moved away." He blushed. "Why am I telling you this?"

"It's all right. Who would _I_ tell?"

"True, true. Come on. They must be wondering what's taking us so long."

As we walked back, I found myself so much more interested in the officer than I was ten minutes ago. Again, I proposed another question. "How do you like being a secret agent?"

He shrugged. "It never gets boring. But everything else does when you try to settle yourself down after that sort of life. So I never quit. What about you?" Cleon cleared his throat. "Faleron told me you were skilled at cards."

It was now my turn to shrug. "I'm decent."

I was not proud of the understatement. It was like saying, "oh _sure_, lemons are sour, but not that much." There was nothing else to say after that, since we were back at the fountain and Cleon went to Kalasin to tell her of the change in plans. Whether she approved or not wasn't shown in her face. She simply nodded. 

Faleron amidst all this fuss made over him, had sought solace in the Yvenne's stuffed Coldfang. I predicted by no special power of my own that it would permanently stay in his possession, even if he happened to be at the stage of his life when little boys rejected stuffed animals.

"I shouldn't have to remind you to brush your teeth and all that nonsense, so just give me a hug, okay?" he said to Faleron while crouching down. The boy obliged gladly, simply overjoyed with the decision. Cleon stood and shook hands with Yvenne, who seemed pleased to be receiving some sort of attention. Finally, he faced me. 

It hit me that he'd aged within the last five minutes and I did not have the deep mind to notice it. He shook my hand warmly. I'd never forget the look in his eyes. So weary, but full of hope for the future. I had yet to find the same worldly hope of my own, but I'm sure he wouldn't mind if I borrowed from his strength. 

"Hey," he whispered, eyes glistening with a shine that was not quite tears. "Don't forget to make some jokes every now and then. Faleron always liked my jokes. Even the corny ones."

And the pain he unknowingly inflicted on me turned into warmth. It remained that way for days after our parting. 

~~

Author: CLEON! KALASIN! Yay for them! Yay for… *looks at the episode again* gosh. Sadness. How did I mix that up in there? What does it all mean? Well, at least you know that Cleon and Kalasin *stay* together. They're both spies now (hence, the title: Secret Agent Man) and working together. I haven't decided if they're husband and wife, or just lovers. *shrug* 

And yes, we have verbal confirmation that Faleron is Roald and Lalasa's kid! If you look very closely, you can see implications of Faleron and then certain implications of the other _Faleron_. So. Enjoy that brain-teaser, because I'm not telling. 

Tell me what you think! Emails and reviews are appreciated. Constructive criticism is a must!


	5. Little Boys

The Gift

Episode 5: Little Boys

_By Sulia Serafine_

This is an ALTERNATE UNIVERSE fic. This is the sequel series to It Could Be Worse, which will end with season 4. NOTE: You can read it if you have not read ICBW. It's possible. You won't get the foreshadowing and the cameos, but you will, eventually. I'd explain them. Credit goes to Tamora Pierce. I'm broke, so you can't sue me. Any other copyrighted things that don't belong to me in here in fact belong to other very businesslike people. Could you believe that? I guess that's why I'm broke.~~

"We're here," I yawned, blinking my eyes so I could remain awake just a little bit longer. Driving long distances during the middle of the night was not something I liked to do. I was very glad to finally arrive at a motel. Yvenne stirred from the passenger seat. She sat up and took in our surroundings. 

"Who's paying? Me or you?" she asked in a slurred, drowsy voice. 

I shrugged. "I think I did last time. You go for it."

She opened the car door and dragged herself out as if weights were attached to her ankles. "Fine. But you have to carry _him_."

Faleron was sound asleep in the back. The kid was impossible to wake up. Luckily, carrying him wouldn't be too great of a task. I got out of the car, moved my seat forward, and leaned in to pick him up. He was a sleight, elfish sized boy for his age. He sagged against my shoulder, his small round face a symbol of tranquility.

After meeting his godparents/uncle and aunt at that theme park, I had started to notice odd details about him. I don't know why. Maybe Cleon's request for me to take care of Faleron was so powerful that it brainwashed me into being a bodyguard. Perhaps it was because the redhead and I had connected. 

Yes. About that... 

I still did not understand why it had happened. But it had, and I learned to live with it. Heaven forbid that I should ever have to connect like that again. It made me shudder to recall someone else's pain surging through my veins and my nerves. Who needed a stretching rack or a flogging whip? Put me next to someone who has serious issues and I'll be crying for my mama in ten seconds flat. 

I had a theory. It was pretty lame-brained, but it did no harm to hypothesize and speculate. Who would I have told? Yvenne? Yeah, right. This theory was going to the grave with me.

You see, maybe my gift—whatever it is—maybe it was evolving. I've met strange men and women in my lifetime who were ruled by their emotions. And yet I had never been able to feel their sadness. What if I started feeling everyone's pain?

Talk about empathy. I'd become the _king_ of empathy. No! The emperor! _No!_ Better yet, the _Master of the Empathetic Universe!_ Not that it would be something to be proud of. Feeling other people's grief is something a humanitarian needs. Let me rephrase that: Feeling other people's grief is something that should be required of _politicians_. Whoa. I'd better keep that one to myself or else Faleron will bite my head off.  _Oh, look at me! Look at me! I'm the Vice President's grandson!_

Sorry. I know. Don't make fun of the kid that's snoring on your shoulder. Just follow Yvenne. The sooner she paid, the sooner I would be able to crawl into a bed and sleep. The man behind the glass slid two keys toward her. She asked about something else I couldn't hear. I turned my heavy gaze away, fully aware of the shrill shriek she was about to emit.

"What?! Paying for each individual _channel_? You guys are lunatics!"

I shifted around the boy in my arms. He snored on. "Yvenne! Just pay for the news and the weather channel and let's go! I want a damn bed!"

She glared at me. But she slid a few more Nobles back under the glass and warned the man if we didn't receive the two channels in our room, that she'd do something that I dared not repeat because, as a man, I found it to be extremely agonizing.

We went up a rickety set of grated stairs toward our cheap room. I wouldn't have been surprised if the real name of this place was Roach Motel. It looked like it could house a few million insects. Why not? Every man should learn to enjoy the crunching of bugs beneath his shoe.

Yvenne opened the door. Actually, she kicked it open since it stuck to the frame. The place was so cheap that the doors didn't even slide. How old fashioned is _that_? As soon as we were inside, she kicked it back into place and threw our bags down to the floor. She didn't bother putting the deadbolt on. Not that she needed to. I'd probably wake up five minutes prior to any burglary.

I set Faleron down on the first bed that I approached. Then I climbed over that tiny one and collapsed gratefully onto the other. I closed my eyes, stretched my limbs out, and made an unidentifiable sound of contentment. And then I felt _it_.

_Not now. I'm too tired,_ I thought. But thinking that never did anything.

"Hey, Vince, I gotta talk to you," Yvenne whispered as she threw herself down beside me and started rubbing my belly. I immediately flinched and removed her hands from me. Then, I quickly scooted as far over as I could. Not far enough.

"Don't do that. It isn't right," I muttered grouchily, occasionally glancing over at the little form lying on the other bed. I didn't like being touched, let alone being groped. Not to mention that doing it in the same room as a young child was not exactly model behavior.

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I know. Sorry. Sheesh, you're a sensitive one."

"I've already told you about personal space," I retorted and made lazy gestures with my hands to draw a rectangle in the air, the 'wall' that was always supposed to be between us. 

"Yeah, whatever. Can we talk or what?" She leaned on her elbow. "Seriously, Vince."

"_Vinny_," I corrected automatically.

"Shush! I'm talking now!" she reprimanded. Yvenne lowered her voice. "Don't you ever want to stop drifting? I mean, like settle down in another city again?"

_No. I have places to see. Things to do. _I sighed and ran my fingers through my wavy hair. "I drift because you drift. And who said I _didn't_ like traveling? I do."

"You don't hustle so much anymore. You have to be missing your business."

I folded my hands behind my head. "Not as much as I'd miss someone else paying for the rooms I sleep in."

Yvenne frowned at that, and slapped at my abdomen. I flexed my muscles there even before her hand touched down. I twisted away and sat up. "Hey! Relax, would you?" We exchanged dirty looks for a few moments before Yvenne got up and headed toward the bathroom. I cursed to myself. "You want to find a new home, don't you?"

She shrugged. "Maybe. Who wants an apartment when I've got a beaten up convertible that's going to die any second? Who wants a nice comfy bed when I've got this nice slab of rock right here? Dude, I'm telling ya… I wouldn't mind." She stressed each word with a pause in between. "I… wouldn't… mind."

"We all wouldn't mind. Now turn off the light and go to bed. I can't sleep with you moving around like that."

"Aww… Sensitive boy need a cold glass of water before he goes to beddy-bye?" she taunted in a babyish voice. I growled, threw a pillow with my remarkable accuracy, and turned onto my side. I tensed several seconds, and sure enough, the pillow came back crashing down on me. 

As did she.

"Get off!" I cried, unceremoniously dumping her off my back. She tumbled to the floor, yelping as her head hit the nightstand. I berated myself for using too much force and leaned down to help her up. "You okay?"

"Oww…" she whined. "You dork! That hurt!"

I blushed, my cheeks turning pink. "Hey! You're the one who jumped me." I shook my head and crawled onto the floor beside her. "Here. Let me see." My nerve ends were tingling with another sensation. I knew what this might lead to if I near her as I was at that moment. But I couldn't go back up on the bed like nothing had happened and leave her there. She'd get suspicious…

Well, she would! I silenced the internal argument and brushed my fingers over her scalp. "You've got a lump, all right. I'll go get some ice."

She leaned forward. Suddenly, it struck me how _very_ close she was. I panicked. I don't know why. It felt like a little jittery jumping bean began bouncing everywhere within the cavity of my chest—this jumping bean that was my heart. 

I stopped my inspection of her head and clumsily stood.  Without another word, I made a beeline for the door. Yvenne crawled onto the spare bed and waited, glaring at me as she applied pressure with her palm to the throbbing spot on her head.

A tumultuous tempest was raging inside my head. I had no idea what I was really doing. One moment, I was annoyed and snappy. The next, I was… I don't know what I was. I banished the strangeness from my mind and focused on filling the provided plastic bucket with ice. 

While outside, in front of the ice machine, I took a moment to still my furiously beating heart. When at last all I heard were the orchestra of crickets out by the motel's sad little pond, I smiled, content, and made my way back to the room.

My heart began its "Mexican jumping bean" impression again. I wondered if it would be wise to go see a doctor or better yet, an old fashioned Healer who advertised herself on a billboard as a true psychic fortuneteller. Formal doctors in white coats and gloves were not to be trusted. I'd seen enough of _them_ in my lifetime. A superstitious healer was exactly what the peculiar, not necessarily health-related, symptom needed.

"I'm back," I announced and shut the door behind me. 

Yvenne sat up and held out her hand to receive the ice. Instead of giving it to her, I removed a cloth pillowcase from its intended place and wrapped the ice with it before handing it to her. I had the sense to know that you were only going to make your skin blue by putting an ice cube on it for a long amount of time. At least the cloth provided some barrier between the two.

She hissed overdramatically as she set the icepack on the crown of her head. She moved over, thus silently inviting me to sit down beside her. With my heart now pretending it was a jackrabbit cross-bred with a kangaroo, I awkwardly remained aloof and crossed the room to the bathroom.

She frowned. "Well, thanks for the ice."

"Whatever," I replied, shrugging indifferently. I kicked off my shoes and grabbed an old shirt and shorts to change into for the night. Slipping into the bathroom, I could hear Yvenne turn on the holoscreen and watch the news.

When I returned, she was still on the bed, and still with a significant amount of space beside her that communicated that she meant for someone to sit down beside her.

_Jump. Hop. Jump._

I'm starting to think I have a heart murmur or something of the same degree. 

"Aren't you tired, man? Get over here," she commanded, one hand still holding up the pack of ice and the other using the remote to flip back and forth between the same three channels. "I think the jackass doesn't even realize that he put in three and not two. And the third one happens to be some primetime stuff!"

I sat on the floor at the foot of her bed. Was I amused? No. "That's great."

She dropped the remote and crawled forward on her stomach until her head was next to mine. "You okay, Vinny?"

I sensed with that particular… _sense_ what she felt the urge to do that night. Instead of the usual hairs standing up straight on my neck, my lips tingled like the crime had already been committed. I hoped the embarrassment of the thought had not expressed itself in a blush across my face. To be sure, I turned my head away and closed my eyes.

"I'm fine," I said under my breath. I was as convincing as a mime with no real voice to argue by.

There was a hesitance. An ill-begotten, accursed hesitance that I hated right away—and then she seemed to back off, though incredibly disappointed with the outcome of the night's events. I was glad that I had predicted (as my supernatural nature forced me to do) and that I had dodged (as was my nature, period). But a doubt within me taunted that I might not be so fortunate the next time. And then what would I do? Yell, _"Eww, she's got cooties!"_ perhaps?

I don't need this. Not now. I have too much on my mind and too much at stake to start forming bonds. _Any_ type of bonds. If I let her in, I'd have to tell her everything. And I could care less if I was taking an oath in court. I would still not tell one word of my story unless it was addressed to the two people who need to hear it the most.

I slept, leaning against the foot of the bed. The roaches avoided me like the plague. Maybe they had all ready seen the plague that I carried inside me, and as disease and filth-ridden as they were, could not stand me.

~~

_Years previous…_

"Hey, Winston. I heard Whisker Man was back from his trip out of the hospital," a boy informed me. He sat across the table from me during breakfast and I noticed how he and Baker were the only ones near enough to start a conversation.

I did not know either of them that well, though everyone in our age group had been introduced to each other before we were each a year old. I knew that the boy who had spoken, Wallace Matthews, had strange abilities concerning the movement of water. And Baker, whose first name I've forgotten (so long had it been since anyone had used it. He was simply Baker to us), had considerable influence on birds. Not reptiles or bugs or even woodland creatures. But, birds.

"I wouldn't be surprised if he went away just to isolate himself and create more ink blots," Baker muttered resentfully, stabbing at his food with a plastic spork. He splattered a small morsel of scrambled eggs on his gray uniform. 

"Careful," Wally lectured. "You know how they get about keeping clean." He glanced over his shoulder. "I hope they didn't see that."

I snorted, taking Baker's side. "They see everything. What's the use, Wally?"

"He's just kissing butt. Nothing's new," Baker stated and brushed the piece of food back onto his plate. 

"But he's right about their anal view on cleanliness," I commented now taking Wally's side. I was never on a permanent side. No one was. It was merely an everyday occurrence to piss each other off. No one ever took it personally. We couldn't afford to when we had to see each other _every_ day.

The only unfortunate ones were the Ignored. Those boys who had been branded with inferiority, whose gifts—whatever they may be—were weak, and whose mentality was that of a child's… (despite the fact that we were all children. We didn't like to see ourselves as such.) yes, they were branded as the Ignored. This was another reason why I never told anyone about my nightmares. It wasn't just the threat of blackmail. It was also the pressure and anguish that came from being treated as though you were invisible.

It might be considered by psychologists one of the largest pieces of evidence to the fact that we were really still children. Only children play the "invisible" game. Only those with immature rationalities intentionally pretend another person did not exist, just to spite him.  Children will be children, no? 

Fifteen minutes afterwards, a low, non-offensive buzz was emitted from the overhead speakers, indicating that breakfast was over. At once, every boy stopped what he was doing, stood, and collected their trays and trash. We calmly stood in line for trash depository and inspection, always mistrustfully eyeing the Gray Men that stood nearby.

"You only smudged your stain bigger," Wally whispered to Baker behind me.

"Stop being a pain in the ass," Baker hissed back.

"You there! Patient 0554!" a Gray Man called. He stalked toward us, his usually gray cheeks becoming colored just the tiniest bit to indicate anger. His large angular body towered over us as if he were some metal giant rather than an orderly. He leaned down and narrowed his eyes at Baker, who stared back boldly without wavering.

"Patient 0554, the rules say no talking after breakfast has ended, let alone swearing. Do you deny having done this?"

We all knew that it was impossible to disagree and get away with it. For him, it was also cowardly to admit yes. So Baker did the only thing he could. He remained silent.

"You also have a stain on your uniform jacket. Do you deny having broken this rule as well?" The way his cold eyes suddenly glinted in the light, I knew he was just anticipating any sign of unruly, rebellious behavior. The man was _looking_ for a reason to make more trouble for Baker.

Baker's eyes never blinked—never moved for a _moment_ from the man's face. I think that only caused the Gray Man to be angrier.

"Patient 0554, report to Disciplinary Office during Free Hour. You are given permission for no more than ten minutes from this very second to report to your bunk and retrieve a clean uniform."

Baker nodded once and stiffly moved out of line to stride out of the cafeteria. Wally and I exchanged looks, the same thing on both our minds. Disciplinary Office was the last place anyone wanted to be. It was as cold and heartless as it sounded. But then again, so were we.

"Patient 0556, also report to Disciplinary Office during Free Hour," the Gray Man barked.

Wally's eyes widened when his number was called. In a rare burst of stupidity, he blurted out, "What for? I didn't do anything!"

"You spoke as well, did you not? Do you deny your charge?"

For a moment, I believed I saw the irises of his eyes flash red. I gulped and tried not to look at Wally. My semi-comrade, lips pressed together in a thin line, gulped apprehensively. He lowered his gaze to the floor. "No, Sir."

"Good. On one charge alone, I might have let you off. Showing disrespect by backtalk is a second charge that must be given punishment. Patient 0550, you report to Disciplinary Office, too," he told me, the corner of his mouth tugged upward into a sadistic smile. I shuddered inwardly.

I was smart enough not to even ask why. I merely replied, "Yes, Sir," and glanced at Wally, who was still staring at the floor in dejection. The Gray Man looked around. At once, all the young eyes, which had been watching turned away, keeping their eyes forward as the lines moved toward the trash receptacles. Their hands gripped their trays tighter, and they jaws became clenched. It was difficult not to look anxious when penalties were dealt out so arbitrarily.

After we had filed into our respective classrooms for basic instruction, Wally was trying very much not to look panicked. 

"What do you think they'll have us do? I haven't been to Disciplinary Office since I was six! The levels of punishment grow worse as you get older. Oh, man…you know what _that_ means…"

I allowed my attention to be taken away from the science book I was reading. I had not been to Disciplinary Office since I was eight. "I don't know. And I don't care. Humph. He probably included me just because I sat next to you two."

Wally glared at me. "Well, there's nothing to be done about it now. I'll persuade Doctor Chiles during Session to get me out of it."

"You're a little twit sometimes, you know that, Wally? Doctor Chiles is going to write it down on his stupid notepad and probably draw some psychiatric conclusion from it that will land you in the Disciplinary Office the whole week," I replied bitterly. I began to ignore him and became absorbed in my book. 

Wally frowned at me. After unsuccessfully trying to study his arithmetic, he got up from our table and sat on the window ledge, watching a younger boy correct his sloppy handwriting. I noted two minutes later that Baker entered the room with a new jacket on. He approached the Instructor like an automaton, rattled off the conditions of his tardiness, accepted an unnecessary scolding, and went about his business. The casual way he did it made me feel like I was watching water roll off a duck's back. Of course, Baker had been in Disciplinary Office much more than either Wally or I have been. Perhaps he'd grown accustomed to their methods.

After reading the science book, I went to the English Instructor who was also in charge of book circulation. I asked her if I was permitted to check out a non-academic book as a reward for finishing my studies early. She reluctantly agreed and gestured toward the shelves.

I perused the rows of books, running my fingers gently over their spines. When one title caught my interest, I pulled it out halfway and read the back to see what the story was about. After having browsed through the whole selection, I was about to go back to the Instructor to say I would borrow another educational book.

That's when I noticed that the book on the very end of the lowest shelf had been pushed back so the spine was not visible to the common eye. I crouched down and reached my hand back so I could pry it out of its tight confinement. When I freed the book, I found that there was no title, nor cover illustration, nor summary. It was thick and heavy like it had more than just words within it. I opened it and read the first page.

_Anthem_ and _Atlas Shrugged,_ by Ayn Rand. I frowned. 

Intrigued, I couldn't help but want to pick it up again as soon as I put it down. I could feel my mind reacting to the mysterious book. Something good would come of reading this. That was the future talking, and oh, how eagerly I listened. I found myself walking toward the English Instructor and persuading her for the book. I wouldn't take no for an answer, though the woman naturally despised any books with which she couldn't read the summary and disapprove.

In the end, I was allowed the book and I retreated to my table to begin reading. 

I finished _Anthem_ well before Free Hour. My eyes strained at the tiny print, but my hands were not willing to put the book aside. I couldn't help but wonder and speculate on the themes and meanings of Prometheus' story and the world within which he lived. It reminded me of Styx. And all of a sudden, I saw every Gray Man around me in a new and more terrifying light. I pitied my fellow patient and I despised the doctors. With an ardor I had never felt before, I began reading _Atlas Shrugged_, but I had to pause this to go to Disciplinary Office with Wally and Baker.

"It wasn't a big offense. It's not going to be that bad, right?" Wally asked nervously.

"It will be if you walk in there like a little wuss," Baker replied.

I carefully chose to remain quiet. I willed myself to foresee what the punishment would be. My mind drew a blank. It always did when I tried to force it. Doctor Chiles and Murray told me that I would most likely gain more control over this clairvoyance in the future. They also told me that it might be possible for me to have my visions even more frequent than now.

I sincerely hoped not. 

We walked down the main hall and came to a stop in front of a large gray metal door. It was labeled in thick block letters, DISCIPLINARY OFFICE. It was the equivalent of the boogeyman's closet to a child younger than seven. It did not scare me. It merely annoyed me since I'd had to take my attention away from the precious book I had acquired that morning.

Baker opened the door nonchalantly and strode in before us. At once we were confronted with two Gray Men, stern gaunt faces and shaved heads reminding me of ghastly skeletons. 

"Patient 0554, 0550, and 0556, come with me."

We were immediately set to sweeping and mopping an arbitrarily chosen section of the hospital. It was near the Session rooms. I could tell because every now and then, the shadow of a tall man—a doctor or orderly, would pass by with clipboards and manila folders in hand. We looked down at the floor as we completed our task. Only Wally was stupid enough, by fault of anxiety, to let his gaze stray when it shouldn't have.

"Patient 0556, you missed a spot over there," the Gray Man assigned to us pointed. Wally chewed on his lower lip as if he was muffling himself from saying something he ought not to, and then he scurried over to the spot. We all knew he had already been over that part of the floor. It was clean. But that wasn't the point. 

Was it ever?

Three times did Wally make the mistake of letting his nerves get to him. I struggled to concentrate solely on my own broom and dustpan. I suspected that Baker had no difficulty. He was the rebel among us, if you had to choose any one of us. But at the same time, I could never imagine him to lead a major insurrection against the established authority of the hospital. 

When we were done, the Gray Man made us put away the brooms and mop in the janitorial closet. He announced that we were free to go, but Baker was to report for another janitorial assignment after dinner. Baker did not seem too bothered by the decree.

If you ask me, they notice how impassive he is and they try to break him. They're all trying to turn him into someone like Wally. I did not truly care about what happened to him. I worried about myself, as selfish as that sounds. Hanging around him could turn into a liability. I may have spent the most time, if any at all, with these two boys, but friendships did not really exist within the hospital. 

Later, it was my turn for Session with Doctor Rosencrantz. He was a portly man of about forty with a habit of biting his pen cap. I assumed that he smoked because he had to occupy his mouth in this way. He also reeked of it.

We sat in a plain white room that contained a plastic table and two red armchairs, the type you might have seen Sherlock Holmes sit in while in front of a roaring fire in his den.

"I heard you were in Disciplinary Office today, Coram. Care to tell me why?"

_Not that it's any of your business,_ I thought, but said, "Guilty by association."

He nodded his head and settled into psychiatrist mode. "Oh, really?"

"Baker and Wallace Matthews got in trouble and I just happened to be there."

He scribbled a note down on his legal pad. I didn't think there was anything interesting to note about my account. It was truth, though the Gray Man who cited us probably wrote up a report saying I was just as guilty as my companions.

"Yes, yes. We can always discuss that later." He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "So tell me. How have your gifts been on you? Any new developments? Headaches, maybe?"

"No."

"Well, today we're going to try a little experiment." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a die with red dots on it. I sighed, knowing exactly where this was going to lead me. "Now, I want you to predict what number it will land on before I drop it. Go ahead, start."

I focused on the die in his hand. And then I glanced to Rosencrantz's face and saw the expectance there. I could just picture him throwing dice with me at his side at some casino, cashing in on my predictions. It made me angry. 

"Six," I told him very calmly, though my inclination was one.

When he saw the single dot land face up, he scowled at me. 

He tried a few more times, and I relented and gave him the numbers he wanted to hear. Casino dreams still possessed his greedy mind. He wished very dearly for the dice to be as I said they would be. Luckily for him, my gift was in fine form that day. If I showed my gift was fading, they would experiment with me. That is to say, they would try to stimulate my nervous system controlling my talent with drugs and strange medical treatments. I did not wish to become a walking zombie that day. Nor did I ever. 

After lights out had been called, I lay there, unable to sleep. Instead, I pondered all that I knew. I knew that I had lived in Styx since I was born. I had never been outside its walls, but the books I read served to whisk me away to these places. If I wasn't the only one reading those books, how come no other boy ever wondered about the outside? I wanted to see this cruel society for myself. The desire would probably seem foolish to another person. 

I didn't care. I wanted to be free from this asylum. How would I spend the rest of my life? Day in, day out… Instruction, exercise, examinations, and doctors. That's all that I've ever had. What happened when I grew into an adult? Why have I never seen any patients older than eighteen? Where do they go?

A sinking feeling in my stomach told me that they did not just fly away like birds toward the wondrous clouds above. And if they did, it was not with the type of wings that one wished to be borne upon until old age. I shuddered at the thought and rolled over in bed.

That night, I decided that I would break out of this place, no matter _what_ it took.

I started the next day, walking closer to the Gray Men than I usually did. I tried to see into their minds, to predict their actions. Which doors were locked? What passwords did they enter? What was the layout of the hospital? Which way was the exit? The scattered thoughts of dozens of orderlies invaded my mind. I received such knowledge as who preferred their coffee with milk or who did not like the scent of scented aerosol sprays. Very few of it were useful. 

The older boy with the extraordinary vision who snuck out at nights to see his girlfriend was also of some help. Jacob knew how to get out of the boy's building and across to the girl's, but it required some physical attributes that I, being twelve then, did not yet possess. He had the height to jump up and grab the edge of the vent opening, the strength to hoist himself up, and the leg muscle to leap across the gap. He told me of the Gray Men that patrolled the ground. It would be impossible to go any farther than a few steps by ground without being caught.

Asking him to perform similar stunts in the yard during Free Hour, I estimated how big a gap there was between the two buildings. Then he drew in the dirt for me what the area looked like from his point of view. When someone else passed by, he swept the image away with his shoe. Then we waited until it was clear again to begin.

"Why do you want to get out?" he asked me after a time. "It's safer in here. Don't you ever read the books? There are guns and war and prejudice out there."

"But there are also beautiful sunrises on the sea," I began. "Food that tastes like ambrosia! People… people who might know why we're the way we _are_."

He frowned at me, confused. "The doctors have been with us since birth. They're smart. If they don't know what we are, then no one else will. And besides! It's not worth it to leave. Sure, you get to see and do all these glorious things… but what about the _means _to see and do all these things freely? There's the need for money—how would you pay for it all? You have no job skills. And the need to protect yourself from those who would do you harm—you can't fight, unless that boy Baker has willingly taught you (and I bet he hasn't)." He paused. "And there's no Delilah."

Jacob would never leave Styx, not even if the way was open and free of any danger. It was then that I understood love to be a sort of liability as well. I promised myself that I would not fall susceptible to it. An idea crossed my mind. 

"You know, you'll have to leave her soon anyway."

He glared at me. "What are you talking about?"

"You're eighteen aren't you? Turning nineteen soon?" I asked calmly.

"Yes. What's your point?"

I glanced all around us at the other patients in the exercise yard. "Do you see anyone older than you here? Don't you ever wonder why the boys are never seen again when they're as old as you are?"

Jacob stiffened. He seemed to perceive what I was getting at. He growled. "I'd fight to stay. I don't care how hard they try to send me—I'd fight."

Temporarily insane with desperation to get out of Styx, I took a risk. "Come with me, Jacob. We'll break out together, get Delilah, and _leave_ this place. They can't send you away if you're already gone."

I could sense that he would refuse, but his stance was wavering. The crease on his brow told me that he was considering it, at least. And that's all I needed. He didn't answer my proposal and began showing me what else he knew of the hospital's layout. I'd talk to him later after I'd gathered more information. I might not even need him.

A gray pigeon flew over and landed on my shoulder. I shook it off, but if flew back and landed on the dirt beside my feet. I narrowed my eyes. _That little…_ I looked over my shoulder. Baker was seated on the ground, against the brick wall of the building. It cast a long shadow over him, but I could still see his eyes, like burning coals in the darkness. 

_What are you doing?_ He was suspicious of what I'd been up to that day, suspicious enough to send a wretched little spy with a brain no bigger than a pebble. I glared at him and turned my back again. The pigeon left me. It returned to its master and alighted on his shoulder. I was thankful that the stronger birds that the doctors tested Baker with were all kept in cages. I had no wish to be pecked at by an eagle or a kingfisher. They would bite off boys' earlobes, if given the chance.

I was taken away during academic instruction before I had a chance to confront Baker about what he knew of my plans. A Gray Man had simply asked the English Instructor for me. She pointed me out. So he came up to me, told me to gather my materials in my satchel, and follow him. I glimpsed Baker from the corner of my eye. He had not spoken anything to anyone, but I would question him later anyway.

Wally was curious. I couldn't see him, but I knew from my gift that he would ask Baker later. If they both knew what was good for them, they would keep their noses out of my affairs. They were better off that way. It would be hard enough to sneak myself out of here. Harder if Jacob and Delilah came. I had no desire to free everyone from Styx. They've read the same books of the outside world that I have. They've developed no love for the freedoms that the outsiders possess. They believe they're superior because of their abilities. Therefore, the outsiders weren't worthy to even see them.

What nonsense. I know I'm superior to those outside of Styx. But that doesn't mean that I've gotten the better end of the deal by living in this damn hospital. 

"Patient 0550. Is it true that you obtained a non-academic book yesterday?"

"Yes," I answered, not quite aware of what that had to do with anything. Last time I checked, it wasn't against the rules.

"Give me the book."

I reached into my satchel and handed him the heavy reading material. The man frowned. The lines in his face were deep set with severity. He looked down at me with disdain. "This is not the type of book you normally borrow. Records indicate that the last books you have borrowed were from a series of high school adventures. Some were also science fiction and others were from medieval fantasy. Harmless fiction."

_And Anthem isn't harmless, is it?_ I asked him silently. _The theme it blatantly highlights in this book has not been found in any of the other books I've read. Those others entertain with petty little stories of jealous friends and terrorizing the substitutes. The knights stand for chivalry, but they don't move against the system do they? The scientists who crave knowledge and invent great machines still bow down to their rulers, don't they?_

_This book. It teaches me the value of my individual self, which is greater than anything you will ever be. It teaches me that I'm capable of living my own life without _you_._

The word censorship suddenly made itself known to me. I had never seen it in person before, but I knew what I was staring at now. What an ugly word, censorship—ugly as the gorgons who turned their enemies into stone for merely seeing their faces. I think it would be appropriate to say, while looking up at this Gray Man, that I was about to be attacked by a gorgon as well. Stone. That's what I'd be.

"Patient 0550, you will undergo an evaluation with Doctor Chiles immediately." He did not give me back the book, but confiscated my whole satchel. His rough hand came down on my shoulder and guided me to the door. Another Gray Man was waiting outside. He took me to see the dreaded doctor. 

Doctor Chiles was as skinny as Doctor Rosencrantz was fat, which means he was like a skeleton the way his skin clung to his brittle frame. The 'good' doctor met me at the door, putting his bony hand on my shoulder and offering me a congenial smile. It was false, but I had dealt with his type my whole life. 

The Gray Man stayed at the door, with his thick muscled arms crossed over his chest. In later years, I would recall to myself maybe the orderlies only looked so large and powerful because I had been weak and diminutive. Maybe.

"Coram, Coram, Coram. How interesting it is that you're the only one who has found that book. I'm glad it was just you. That book wasn't supposed to be there," he told me. "We are all very glad we caught it before it spread around."

"Why is it a bad book, Sir?"

We sat down in the same type of chairs that had been in Doctor Rosencrantz's room. I gripped the armrests tightly, anticipating his evasive answer. 

"You would first have to hear and understand what we conceive as good and as bad," he replied, still smiling. I wanted to wipe that stupid smile right off his face, but then the Gray Man at the door would wipe the floor… with _me_.

"My little Coram, you have done nothing wrong. It is someone else's fault that this horrible book was left on the shelf for you to find."

"Funny. That's not what the other orderly said," I retorted.

He let out a deep, frustrated breath. "Oh, my dear boy, don't listen to them. Now, I know you mean well. Your disciplinary record is very good. Very few disturbances! Most of them are the result of being around that bird boy, and there's not much we can do about that." He stroked his beardless, pointy chin. "I propose we do our annual test earlier this year. You know the one. You were scheduled to have it done two weeks from now."

Yes, I knew the test he was talking about. They didn't examine my regenerative ability often because it involved harming me. Continual injury would distress the other patients. Couldn't have that, now could we? The worst part of the test was that I would be in solitary confinement for three days. The first day would be filled with the creation of miniscule wounds. The last two days were set-aside for me to heal.

"Must we do it right now, Sir?" I thought of Jacob. I wouldn't get the chance to warn him. Maybe my absence would scare him out of aiding me. My silent curses filled up the void of my head. 

"There's no better time than the present, wouldn't you say?"

_No, but it doesn't matter what_ I _think_.

There's no need for great detail here. All that needs to be known is that I was forced to change into a hospital gown and was tied down at the waist to a hospital bed. I couldn't untie myself because the strap disappeared into a metal feeder with a keypad on it. I did not know the combination, even when I tried to see it in my mind. 

They swabbed antiseptic across my arms and my legs. Anesthetic hindered the regeneration process, they told me. I was about eight when they discovered that doing this caused anything at all. Eight years of garbage recorded, they had said to themselves. New procedures must be made, they had said, even more painful ones. I hated them all.

They photographed the areas to be experimented with and bid me to lie still so that nothing would be blurry. I wanted to thrash about, but that would cause more solitary confinement. I forced myself to obey. Causing trouble now would cripple my plans for escape.

A sterile instrument created various cuts across my limbs. The initial spill of blood was wiped away. Then the rest was left alone, under the careful eye of the camera above. I made my face expressionless. My cuts stung and throbbed, but the pain would all be over soon. During these times, I forced myself to sleep. Sleep sped up the process, and the doctors took note of that, too.

When I awoke again, it was the pre-dawn of the next day. I still wore my hospital gown, but they had transported me to a padded cell with a single window facing the exercise yard. The glass was shaded so that I could see out, but no one could see in. Not that it mattered—whom would _I_ call out to for help? None of those boys down there, that was for certain.

I held up my arms and legs to the window for light. My cuts were healed. Not even the slightest hint of a scar had been left behind. Other scars were still visible. Last year, they had tried to see if burns healed the same way my cuts did. They did heal exceptionally fast, without any medication, but the scars were left behind. It also hurt a great deal more than any stupid little scratch they gave me.

Two days passed, mostly filled with photographs, routine health examinations, and boredom. I endured it for the sake of my plans. It had to be done. 

They released me in the middle of the night. I hoped they did not notice that Jacob's bed was empty. I would have to wait until he returned to assure him of the ongoing effort for liberation. I changed into my plain white pajamas and climbed into bed. Doctor Chiles smiled down at me and patted my soft blond hair. I couldn't help but notice the irony of his fatherly actions and his despicable experiments.

"Sleep well, little Coram. You've done very well, very well indeed."

I turned my back on him and clutched the blanket closer to me. They left. 

An hour later, Jacob returned. I climbed out of bed and tiptoed toward his side of the room. He froze in the darkness. I knew he could see me as well as if the lights were on. He swiftly strode toward me, grabbed me by the arm, and dragged me back to my bed. I sat down again, and he crouched in front of me to be on the same eye level.

"Where were _you_ these last few days?" he hissed. The moonlight from the windows was barely enough for me to see the anger, not worry, that revealed itself in his eyes.

"Examinations on my gift. That's all. The plan is still on. Are you in, or are you out?" I asked.

He gnawed on his lower lip. "We can bring Delilah?"

"Yes, yes. I said we'd come for her. So? Can we do it tonight?"

"I told her something like this might happen soon. Yes, we'll do it tonight. But let me have the whole day to figure out what we'll do for money and shelter. I don't know what's beyond the hospital's land boundaries."

I flashed an arrogant grin. "I'll take care of that. I know someone who has pick-pocketed money from the Gray Men before. And shelter won't be too hard to deal with. There are storage rooms all over the hospital. We can take materials from there."

He eyed me suspiciously. "You don't sound like you're twelve.  You've read too many books too big for your age."

"You're right. Maybe I would have been better off if I was as ignorant as the rest of you."

"Maybe," he echoed. He retreated to his own bed without another word. I lied back down and went to sleep.

During breakfast, I told Wally to eat with the other boys while I talked to Baker. He also looked at me strangely, like Baker had looked at me on the day I was taken away, but Wally didn't protest. I sat down and looked the remaining boy in the eye. He sipped nonchalantly from his milk.

"What do you need and what will you give me in exchange?" he asked right off the bat.

I was delighted to know that he was so ready to do business. How convenient it was! "Money. Today. As much as possible. I have the rest of the year's homework assignments done and test answers hidden under my mattress. They're all yours."

He glared at me. "What do you need money for? Money is for outsiders."

"I'm sure you can draw a conclusion."

The boy chuckled, though his face held no sign of mirth. "You're crazy."

"Come on, Baker!"

"All right. I'll help. Only because I think this is amusing. It's fun to watch a bird catch a bite to eat. The little _maggot_ struggles in vain."

I glared at him. "When do you think you'll have it all by?"

"Dinner. I want to see those papers before then. When you get your books for instruction, get me a few samples." He continued eating breakfast, a sign that our business transaction was over. I once said that Baker was the rebellious type, yet never enough to attempt what I had in mind. Now I wondered if he wasn't more suited to the idea than me. 

That night, Baker delivered what he managed to swipe. To ensure his silence, I told him of other places where he could find the answers for all the instruction exercises he'd ever run into. He accepted the information without a word and went back to his own business. 

At midnight, when we were sure everyone else was asleep, Jacob and I raided the storage rooms of the hospital for anything useful we could stuff into bags and carry with us. I showed him the money and he told me of a place he'd overheard the Gray Men talk about that wasn't far from here. It was called Irontown. Low population, but not low enough that people would notice any new strangers wandering in. 

We climbed through the ventilation system, the normal route that Jacob took, and ended up on the flat roof above the dormitories. I relished the cold night air blowing against my face. Freedom from Styx was close at hand. Now all we had to do was pick up the last member of our party and run. 

Jacob threw our things across the gap to the other roof over the girls' dormitories. He then turned to me. 

"I have to throw you across. You won't make it on your own. You're light enough. I can do it."

I was about to reply, but we heard footsteps on the ground below. We backed away from the edge of the roof and waited until the flashlight beam we barely saw was out of range. We walked up to the edge again. I frowned.

"I don't think you can."

"We'll have a running start and I'll heave you across to add along to your momentum," he said. "Be sure to tuck and roll once you hit the other side or else you'll hurt yourself."

My heart leapt up to my throat as we backed away for running room. He put his hands on my hips, ready to lift and heave as soon as we touched the edge. If only we didn't have to rescue his girlfriend, we wouldn't have to jump this gap. But Jacob wouldn't leave without her and I would have a more difficult time carrying all the supplies alone.

"Start running on three. One…two…three!"

We sped off. I ran as fast as I could to keep up with Jacob's pace. We approached the edge. Jacob's grip on my waist tightened. And then we were there. Jacob lifted me up just in time and flung me across. I stretched in the air. I hit the edge of the other roof, my legs just dangling off. I could hear his sharp intake of breath. He was afraid I would fall. Once either of us hit the ground, we had to make a break for the fence. There would be now coming back for Delilah, and if we didn't have her, I knew he would give up and let himself be caught.

I climbed onto the roof and breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn't too long before Jacob had his own running start and jumped the gap. He landed beside me in a crouched position. He'd been leaping by himself for years. Now _I_ felt like the extra baggage.

We approached the ventilation duct of the girls' building and climbed inside. We made our way to the point where Delilah always met Jacob and removed the vent covering to jump down. Jacob made silent motions to tell me he would go down by himself. He would help Delilah up, then he would jump back up himself, and we would continue in the ducts until we reached the southern end of the hospital. It was at that location we would make our break for the hospital's fence.

"Wish me good luck," he whispered with a nervous smile and dropped down from the vent. It was completely dark and I couldn't see if Delilah was down there or not. I waited for two minutes. Then I became worried. Why hadn't he returned by then? I had no choice but to drop down and see what was the matter. 

As soon as I hit the floor, someone's hand clamped down over my mouth. Another arm surround me and pinned my arms to my sides. As a reflex, I bit down on the hand over my mouth. There was a low cry of pain as I tried to get away. I couldn't see a damn thing in the darkness. Times like this I wish I had Jacob's eyes instead of a clairvoyance that worked only when it felt like it.

All of a sudden, a fist punched me in the face. It was an explosion of pain, with the imaginary stars circling my head and dizziness overtaking me. I slumped in my captor's arms. Flashlights shone on me, revealing the presence of three Gray Men. The third orderly restrained Jacob, who had a gag in his mouth and his wrists handcuffed behind his back.

"I thought I heard something outside," the orderly with the flashlight snickered. "Come on, boys. Let's take these two miscreants to Disciplinary for some important rehabilitation."

I shouldn't have to say how severe our punishments were going to be. They separated us first. I was tied down to a hospital bed. Leather straps were put across my ankles and my wrists. I still couldn't see out of my left eye. It was swollen shut at that time of night, but it would improve by daytime, I knew.

One of the doctors had been forced awake to hear the Gray Men's report. He ordered that I be injected with an influenza virus to keep my stamina down, though that would only last for so long. I couldn't hear what they did to Jacob. But I foresaw it in my dreams. They were leading him out of the hospital in handcuffs still, to the place where they sent all the older patients. Wherever that is…

In the morning, I lied in bed, my eyes barely open. I felt weak and helpless. My body's advanced immune system was having a tough time dealing with the virus within me. It wasn't used to letting anything get past the barrier of my skin, let alone an actual virus.

I drifted in and out of sleep. I could hear boys outside my room. I must have been housed in the wing of examination rooms. It was next to the hallway that we used to attend Session with our doctors. I thought to call out to them, but my throat was dry and I could barely lift my head. My eyes closed and sleep overtook me.

When next I awoke, it was past noon. The reality of the situation hit me, full force.

I was never going to leave here. I was going to spend my whole life in this place and no one outside this building will have known that I ever existed. I bet there were thousands of people who live in obscurity like that. Were they happy?

Well, I wasn't. 

"Winston!" I heard Wally hiss. When I turned my head, all I saw of him was the upper half of his head peaking out from over the edge of the hospital bed. I strained against the leather straps that pinned my arms down, but I could not move them one inch. 

Wally sat up on his knees. From the sympathetic look on his face, I could guess how pathetic I appeared. Pale, sickly, sweat matted hair against my forehead… I bet the shine around my eye didn't help things either.

"You shouldn't be here, Wally. Are you trying to get caught?" I asked him with a raspy voice.

"I won't get caught. Baker and that other weird kid are fighting in the next hall. They're supposed to distract the Gray Men."

I found the strength in me to laugh, albeit more darkly than I meant to sound. "That sounds like two servings of solitary confinement to me. If I didn't know better, Baker is actually starting to act like my friend."

Wally shrugged indifferently. "You know he's not. He would have picked a fight anyway. I'm surprised it's you tied down in here and not him." He paused. "But he's still not a friend. And I'm not either."

I had to agree with him. Baker and Wally may have stuck out their necks for me from time to time, but we were never close. The only thing that connected us was our freakishness and our isolation from the rest of the world. We shared grief, sarcasm, and most of all, bitterness. And, of course, a couple of laughs at each other's expense. 

Maybe they'll miss me when I'm gone. When I'm dead, I suppose. Because it seems my escape attempts aren't going half as great as they're supposed to. If I get out of here, maybe I'll miss them. But that would imply actual sentiment between us. And that would be lying, wouldn't it?

A little lie never hurt anyone. I'll tell that to myself whenever I have to talk about my childhood to nosy people. There's no need to make it look like I was needy for affection. I shudder to think at what response that might draw from the public.

"You'd better get out of here," I warned Wally.

He nodded. Instead of getting up and sneaking to the door, however, he went to the sink and filled a paper cup with water. He held it up to my lips and let me drink. And then he repeated this action until I had drunk three and a half cups.

"Stop already. What is this about?"

Wally sat down on the edge of my bed and simply stared at me. I felt something strange within me shift. My muscles started to relax and I noticed myself breathing more slowly than before. My gaze flickered back up to him, my lips about to form a question for the fellow patient.

"I just circulated some more of the water in your body. You were awfully dehydrated and this should help ease some of the aches you're feeling." He filled up another cup. "Just drink this last one. I'll go."

I frowned. "I didn't know you were getting so advanced with that water manipulation."

For a moment, I thought I saw a ghost of a smile appear on the neurotic boy's face. 

"Doctor Chiles helped me develop it. I suppose he's good for that, at least, but he's still a conniving bastard, just like the rest of them."

I take every bad thing I ever said about this boy back. He's going to be okay after all. 

"I'd like to think sometimes that I'd be happier out there, Winst. I know I'm a wuss and a dork… and out there, guys like Baker would beat up on me all the time," Wally whispered, his hand balling up into a fist. "But I think… sometimes… sometimes I'd rather be out there in the world—bullies and all—instead of here."

"I'll keep that in mind," I replied.

He left. I was partially sad to see him go. I should have asked for his help to let me out of these restraints. But that would assure his punishment and I wanted to ruin no one else's lives. Jacob was gone. Delilah was probably found out, too. I didn't need my gift to tell me that Baker would be in a padded cell by this time the next day. Everyone I included in on my plans was suffering somehow. I was a harbinger of sorrow.

They released me at the end of the day, to eat alone in the cafeteria before everyone else would be called in to eat dinner. Doctor Chiles sat across from me, watching solemnly. He appeared angry, the first time I had ever seen him so. It didn't worry me. He was not my biggest concern.

"I'm very disappointed with you, Coram. Don't we take care of you? Don't we clothe and feed you? Do we not educate you and let you entertain yourself with nice wholesome books? What about your friends? Don't you feel you have companions to talk to?"

I detested his incessant questioning. I put down my spoon and dabbed at my mouth with a napkin. I looked up at the skeletal doctor and showed him my most hateful expression. "You do take care of me. In the sense that someone needs to take care of a lab rat."

Indignant at my response, he got up from the table and stalked out of the room, barking out an order I couldn't hear to two of the Gray Men. They waited until I finished my meal and washed myself in the baths before taking me to Disciplinary. 

I was placed in a padded cell for solitary confinement again. This time, they handcuffed me to a tough metal ring in the middle of the floor so that I wouldn't be able to move around the cell like I wanted. Escaping this would be more difficult than I thought.

In the middle of the night, I noticed that the ventilation duct over my head wasn't bolted down. I examined the padded walls. I could grip the padding hard enough to climb my way up and get to it. If only I could loosen myself from the handcuffs…

My next actions were ones I would not be fond of recalling in later times. I had tested the metal of the handcuff and determined that I could break it off the chain if I stomped at it hard enough. Of course, if I did, the metal would pierce my skin and I would bleed much more than I would ever have bled my whole life. 

I wasn't entirely sure if I could still grip the overstuffed padding of the walls with an injured wrist, but it was worth it enough to try. This was my last chance. If they ever let me out of here, I would be on surveillance until the day they carted me away like Jacob. I prayed to whatever deity existed that I wouldn't end up like Jacob.

My blood had seeped into the cloth padding around the metal ring. A few drops still trickled down my limp hand and onto my pants leg. The remains of the jagged cuff jangled on my wrist. I was afraid of trying to loosen the rest lest I cut myself even more. I flexed my hand. I would be able to grip the overstuffed padding and climb, hopefully.

The vent cover easily moved. I pushed it over and gripped the edge. Though I had been weak for the last day, my body had completely rid itself of the virus and my strength had returned.  I lifted myself up into the vent and crawled until I found the familiar path that Jacob and I had used to get onto the roof of the boys' dormitory.

I could still do it. I could still go to the girls' dormitory and get to the southern end of the hospital. I hoped with all my might that our supplies had been left in the ventilation. I didn't think any Gray Man would actually overcome his natural laziness to climb up into such a tiny space and inspect.

The only problem would be leaping over the gap.

Minutes later, I stood on the roof. The hairs on my neck stood on end. I estimated the edge. There was no time for second thoughts. I either made it or I didn't. I backed all the way up against the wall of the building and took a deep breath.

"Humans weren't meant to fly," I muttered to tell myself. _But I'm a freak, aren't I? There's nothing really human about me._

With that resolve of confidence in my mind, I ran and I leapt. This time, I really had to stretch. My hands came in contact with the roof edge and held on for dear life. The way my forearm muscles strained caused the remains of the handcuffs to dig into my skin. A large drop of blood rolled down my arm into the crook of my elbow. I winced. Then I swung my body side to side until my foot caught the edge of the roof. 

As soon as that was done, I was able to get my whole leg up, then the rest of my body after it. I eased off the cuff from my wrist with great difficulty. Drops of blood splattered on the concrete roof flat.  I tore my bloodied sleeve off. It sufficed for a bandage until I got to the first aid kit in my supply bags.

My prediction was correct. They did not bother to seal off the vents. How could some stupid little boy like escape again? Those were their thoughts. Wouldn't they hate themselves after I was gone? I climbed through the vents. My things were just as I left them. I dragged them with me through the ventilation system. 

I remembered the drop point for the southern end of the hospital. The vent opening was right there in front of me. I peered through the cracks. Not one sign of Gray Men.

After that, sneaking out the doors was a piece of cake. I knew the codes from observing the Gray Men. Who would have ever thought that I would have been grateful for four lousy numbers? I hoisted two bags over each shoulder since the third one had been for Delilah anyway. I ran as fast as my legs could carry me into the darkness. I climbed the fence, not even feeling the barbed wire as it snagged on my clothes. After escaping that peril, it came clear to me. Clearer than anything else had ever been.

I had escaped. I, Coram Vincent Winston, was free of Styx.

That night, I walked for miles. I had found a highway, but I stayed in the woods to the right of it. Luckily for me, it was summer and I wouldn't freeze to death outdoors. When I saw the sky become rosy with the coming of dawn, I climbed a tree and hid myself to get some sleep.

What would I do first? I supposed… I could…look for my parents.

Maybe they would be able to tell me why I had been born with my abilities. Already, my wrist wound had scabbed over very well. I could tell that new skin was already formed underneath. I threw off my bloody makeshift bandage and shoved it into a nook of the tree. Nestled in the concealing branches, I tried to envision what my parents looked like.

More importantly, I attempted to envision what they would say. I didn't want to be the only one who could see the future. Because all I saw at that moment was pain and death. That wasn't a future I looked forward to. But at the same time, I caught a glimpse of pure blue eyes—purer and brighter than my own, which were bright enough as they were. 

Picturing those mysterious eyes, I fell fast asleep. The future didn't scare me one bit.

~~

I awoke, still on the floor. It was dawn. Yvenne and Faleron were still snoring. They wouldn't be up in a while. I got up and went to the mirror. My eyes reflexively squinted when I flicked on the bathroom light. When they had adjusted, I opened my eyes wide and stared at my reflection. My eyes were still the same color as when I was twelve. 

How stupid little boys were. Ones like me. I was still a little boy if I thought for a second that the depth of blue in my sight had changed. They were still as blue and hopeless as when I first gazed through them as a newborn infant.

_I'm out here, Wally. Bullies and all… and you're right. I'd rather be out here in this hell than in there with you… if…if you're still there._

A little feeling pricking the back of my mind told me he wasn't. Because sooner or later, they come for you. It doesn't matter if you can see perfectly in the dark or if you can make the rain dance or even if you can call hawks to your hand. We're still little boys and not superior enough that we can escape the same force that claims us all in the end. 

~~

Where did you leave your baby   
Bleeding in her bed   
Her ghost has come to stay   
Oh, you can try, you can't chase her away   
  
In the bar we sit like blackbirds   
With our broken wings   
Like clocks without their springs   
Just like time doesn't mean anything   
  
[Chorus:]  
Won't you tell me   
Which way to the top?   
You know that I can't stay   
Down here   
  
We used to ride around in a broken down old car   
But now I'm changing trains   
Oh, and I'll hit all the notes in between   
  
Mom and Dad are fast asleep now   
But I'll be wide awake   
A surfer in the break   
Oh, just waiting for the perfect wave   
And a place in the shade   
  
[Chorus]  
  
You better get it now while   
The getting's good   
Get it now while it's happening   
You better get it now while   
The getting's good   
Get it now while it's happening, oh yeah   
  
[Chorus]  
  
[Repeat Chorus]

_(Fastball: Which Way to the Top? from their All the Pain Money Can Buy album)_

~~

Author's notes: I hope you enjoyed that! I know the tone of this one was definitely a lot more bitter than Vinny has ever been before, but I hope I described his place in Styx well enough to get my points across. If you have any questions about what any of the metaphors mean, feel free to ask. My e-mail is silverwLng@aol.com


	6. Beautiful Like You

The Gift

Episode 6: Beautiful Like You

_By Sulia Serafine_

This is an ALTERNATE UNIVERSE fic. This is the sequel series to It Could Be Worse, which will end with season 4. NOTE: You can read it if you have not read ICBW. It's possible. You won't get the foreshadowing and the cameos, but you will, eventually. I'd explain them. Credit goes to Tamora Pierce. I'm broke, so you can't sue me. Any other copyrighted things that don't belong to me in here in fact belong to other very businesslike people. Could you believe that? I guess that's why I'm broke.

Warning: Rated PG-13 to R for more cursing than usual.

~~

"You're so vain, Vince. Stop looking at that mirror," Yvenne ordered. She adjusted the car's mirror and glared at me. 

I hadn't meant to look vain. I had merely wished to see my eyes again. I hated my eyes, but I could help staring at them, reminding myself of what I truly hated. Myself. I suppose that was a self deprecating gesture, like a person who injures himself over and over thinking that he deserves it. I'm sure I do.

It's more than just seeing the blue in my eyes. It's seeing everything. Or nothing. My lack of feeling. My… nothing. After that night in the motel, after dreaming of my sorry excuse of a childhood, I had tried to start seeing myself, _really_ seeing myself. There's nothing to look at any more.

I'm glad that I'm here. I never doubted that I would be. But that's just compared to being in _there_. There's nothing that is beholden to me. I should be grateful, though. I _should_ be! But…

"We're going to be there soon," Yvenne announced, glancing down at the fuel gauge. 

"Where are we?" Faleron asked sleepily from behind.

"Beauford County, apparently. That was the last road sign I saw." She turned to me as we pulled into a rest stop. "You drive. I'm tired."

We both climbed out of the car, lethargic in our movements. I couldn't remember a time when I was wearier than this night. I felt like I ought to see buzzards circling over me at any moment. If there were any scavengers, I would taunt them by living. I'd be taunting myself.

I drove without much thought on anything else. The car was quiet with the exception of the engine and the soft snores of my passengers. It was usually during their slumber that I was able to meditate on my own thoughts. The deathlike tranquility of sleep was often a comfort to me.

It was an escape. My only true one. My mind was still a prisoner to men in white lab coats, so I no longer considered that an achievement.  Sleep was my haven but it is also _their_ hunting ground. I cannot find solace in my dreams sometimes, but oh, it is wonderful to delude myself into thinking that it is a pure escape. 

We reached the next motel in silence. I never remembered the places we went anymore. The moment my mind knew that there were no answers in a particular place, I lost all interest. And so we continued. Our migratory lifestyle had wasted much of the summer. I would notice Faleron's antsy behavior. Half his vacation had gone by, but he wanted to stay with us forever.

More specifically, he wanted to stay with _me_ forever. I could see it in his mind. He had adopted me as if I was the child and he was the parent. I never understood why he felt like this. I couldn't bring myself to care unless I thought of Cleon Kennan and his trusting but sad smile. Why me? Why did I look like a father to him? I never had one. I don't know the first thing about being one. You couldn't even consider me as big brother material. 

( Scene: Black and white rerun. Enter: Vincent.

Vincent: [grinning at camera] _"Hey, Squirt!"_

Faleron: [beaming up at him] _"Hiya, Big Bro!"_

[They go skipping off into the distance hand-in-hand, being brother-like.] )

Yvenne dragged herself out of the car, having violently kicked open the door. "Wait here. I'll go pay for the room." 

I obeyed without fuss, anything to get my mind off the usual torture. 

Faleron awoke. In a rare bout of natural childishness, he emitted an annoying groan. I cringed and turned. The boy was curled up on his side, arms wrapped around his middle.

"What's wrong?"

Faleron pressed his face into the old leather seat. "I feel sick."

Figures. You think he would have listened to me when I told him not to eat so many chilidogs. But did children ever listen? I supposed I'd better do something about it before he makes a mess. That would be a pain in the ass… "Do you want some Tums?"

"We don't have any," he reminded me, half moaning. The boy looked like he was about to cry. "My Mommy used to warm up milk along with the chewable tablets."

_Do I look like your Mommy to you?_ I sighed and shook my head. "Okay, okay. I'll go see if I can find some milk and whatever. Stay here."

For a little kid in pain, he sure sat up quickly when I got up. "Don't just leave me here!"

"I'll be right back. And Yvenne shouldn't take that long."

He stubbornly shook his head. "I want to get out of the car. The smell makes me sicker than the food."

_Okay, we'll buy a car air freshener, too_. I sat back down, rubbing my hands over my face to keep me awake. I wanted to fall asleep into my peaceful oblivion so badly, but more things continued to delay my rest. I got out of the car and moved the seat forward, allowing the boy to climb out and take a breath of fresh air. 

I rested my hand on his forehead, feeling for a fever. Thankfully, his stomach was his only ailment. It occurred to me that he barely came up to my waist. It was hard for me to imagine myself as that small. I know I was, once, but living as proudly and arrogantly as I have always made me feel a little taller than I really was. 

"Come on. I think that drugstore is open." I pointed to a place just across the street that had one neon sign blinking on and off. It wasn't the nicest looking of places, but it didn't look as bad as the drugstores in Carthak. For that, I was extremely relieved.

When I realized Faleron wasn't following me, I turned around and found him crouching on the ground, arms still wrapped around himself. Annoyed, I also lowered myself so I sat back on my haunches. I peered into his face. "Are you going to do it right here?"

Vomit = unpleasant, to be blunt. Bluntness should be a virtue.

"I don't think so. I just can't move," he complained. His whiny voice was really starting to get on my nerves, but blowing up at him for his innate nature wasn't going to get us anywhere. Yvenne wouldn't stop scolding me for that either, so what could I do?

He gratefully let himself be lifted up in my arms, just as I had always done when we needed to move him in his sleep. I had the strangest suspicion that the boy was losing weight because he seemed to be getting lighter every time I picked him up. Or maybe I was just getting stronger. He shouldn't have been losing weight. His family would kill me when he finally returned home at the end of the summer.

The drugstore was open. The man at the counter retrieved a bottle of children's Pepto-Bismol chewable tablets and pointed to the back refrigerator for a bottle of milk. He scowled at me, however, when I asked how fresh the milk was. It was an honest question. I don't want to give spoiled milk to a sick boy. That would defeat the purpose of the remedy, wouldn't it?

"Yvenne's at the car, waiting," Faleron muttered, pointing over my shoulder. I quickly paid for the two items and supported the boy with both arms as I carried the plastic bag looped on my wrist.

When we reached the car, Yvenne looked at us skeptically. She eyed the contents of the transparent bag and came over to feel Faleron's forehead, just as I had done. She looked at me accusingly. "What happened?"

"Nothing! He was just having a stomachache. Why do you always have to look at me like it's my fault?"

"Because it always is." She jangled the keys in her hand. "I'll get the bags, I guess."

"Does the room have a microwave?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Okay. Give me the keys. We'll meet you there."

She handed me the keys. Then she popped the car's trunk, sorting through our stuff for what we needed that night. I walked ahead, trying to match the numbers on the key tag with the numbers on the doors. The room ended up being the one at the far end, with the least amount of light reaching it. I squinted in the darkness for the keyhole.

The first thing I did after flicking on the light was set Faleron down on the nearest bed. I moved the trashcan to his bedside, just in case. There were a few plastic cups in the bathroom. I poured the milk into one of these and set it in the microwave. Just as I had set the timer and pressed the start button, I heard Yvenne enter the room from behind me, dragging our belongings with her.

Yvenne flung them as far as she could to the other side of the room, grunting with the effort. Wiping her hands off on her thighs, she sat down beside Faleron and stroked his head. "How are you feeling?"

"Bad," he replied, half groaning. 

"The milk will be warm soon. Just a few more seconds," I told them. I stood a few feet from the microwave, stretching my arms behind my back. The tension in my shoulders loosened, and I rolled my head slowly left and right until the muscles in my neck eased, too. 

The timer went off. I removed the milk from the microwave, made sure it wasn't too hot, and sat down on the bed beside my traveling companions. I fished around the plastic bag for the chewable tablets. Faleron reluctantly chewed and swallowed them, washing them down with half the cup of warm milk. Yvenne smiled and got up to get ready for bed.

"I hear there's a racing track not too far from here. Horses."

I looked up, one of my fine eyebrows arched inquisitively. "Oh? And what do you expect out of me? We have enough money right now. I'd rather wander around the towns and enjoy my useless existence."

She chuckled and entered the bathroom, toting a bag of her nightclothes. I stayed where I was, truly feeling useless. Okay, okay. Perhaps the word I should have used was lazy. There's nothing wrong with being lazy just as long as you don't stay lazy forever. And after having spent my whole childhood as one of the most productive, efficient, self-serving little bastards in the whole hospital, I thought I was entitled to some laziness.

"Feeling any better?" I asked Faleron, still curled up on his side. Without thinking, I reached out and stroked his brow, like I'd seen Yvenne do. The little boy crawled over until his head was resting on my knee. Then his breathing started to slow and I knew he was falling asleep. 

Yvenne came out of the bathroom just as I was removing his shoes and jacket. She helped me tuck him into bed and sat with me at his side. I yawned again, my eyes becoming watery with the strain of keeping awake. 

"You know, Vince, I think you'd make a pretty good father," she said softly, gazing down at the young boy, fast asleep.

_Me? Father?_ I snorted at the idea and stood. She also got up, reaching out one last time to brush Faleron's bangs from his face. The feisty sprite looked up at me, an unusually peaceful and content expression on her face. It bothered me for some reason I couldn't describe. I looked away.

"Vince?"

"Vinny," I corrected gratingly.

She grinned. "Sorry, Vinny." Here she paused and tilted her head, as if trying to see me in a different light. "You know, when I first met you, I thought you were just some hotshot smartass who only looked out for himself. Now I know…"

My head jerked back towards her. I subconsciously balled up my fists and glared at her. "What do you know?  You know nearly nothing about me. What you do know is that you don't like traveling alone and I don't like being poor."

This was the part where she was supposed to have either slapped me or stormed out of the room. Neither happened. Instead, she reached up with one soft, sweet smelling hand, and cupped my face. My eyes widened as she rose on her tiptoes and leaned forward.

I quickly backed away from her, shaking her hand away from my cheek.

"Don't do that," I warned through clenched teeth. My hand touched my cheek, trying to remove the sensation she left there. I couldn't stand it. There was something, some unidentifiable _something_ that was creeping me out. It was a half formed image in my mind, like an ice statue that had been left in the sun. I frowned, confused and angry. 

The untouchable girl reached toward me, a look of hurt on her face. I couldn't have explained to her that she was giving me bad vibes. I knew I would offend her no matter what I did, so I should have at least kept my secret from her. No, she couldn't touch me. Shouldn't touch me. 

Now, Ladies and Gentlemen, this was the part where I should have fled the room in search of a place to get drunk and pass out. Since I am neither attracted to the idea of imbibing nor of losing consciousness in public places, this, of course, _didn't_ happen.

"Vinny—" she began, her eyes wide with humiliation and puzzlement. She was ashamed. I would be, too, if I were susceptible to things like that.

I held my hands out, palms facing the floor and fingers spread out. "Look, Yvenne. You're my friend and all, but…" I shook my head helplessly. It wasn't as if she couldn't guess what I had to say. She watched soap operas. She knew the line better than I did. "Why don't we just go to sleep and forget about all of this?"

Yvenne blinked rapidly, probably trying to banish oncoming tears. She moved past me to the bathroom. "Right. Sorry."

I kicked off my shoes and rolled up my sleeves. I couldn't care less if I wasn't ready to go to bed. I had to be asleep before she came out of the bathroom again. Women! Nothing but trouble, I tell you. I've said it before and I'll say it again: no relationships, not now, not ever. There is no room. There is no chance.

_"Do you really want to hurt me…"_

The bad last-era love song was not the best thing to listen to at that moment. I rose from my bed and pounded on the wall. I screamed at the top of my lungs for the occupant of the next room to shut off the music or die a very painful death (insert more expletives here). I shouldn't have yelled so loudly. Faleron sat up, groaning in his whiny, attention-craving way.

I ran my hands over my face and shuffled to his bedside. My hands placed his blanket back over him and nudged him into lying down again. He looked up at me with a frown. 

"Sorry you had to hear that."

"The music would have waken me up anyway," he excused, shrugging his shoulders.

How accepting. How easily forgiving children could be. _I wish—_

"Does your stomach still hurt?" I asked gently, offering a half-smile.

"No. Thanks, Vinny. I know I can be a real pain sometimes."

I ruffled his hair. My head lowered a few inches toward him. As I realized that I meant to kiss him on his forehead, I stopped and thought of Yvenne's earlier observation. I smiled more widely to keep him of suspecting anything and retreated to my bed again. 

"Good night, Squirt. Leave some room for Yvenne, okay?"

"I will. Good night, Vinny. I wish I had a brother like you."

It was a harmless little restatement of everything I already knew, but I don't know why it stuck with me like it did. Why was I still in this damned little motel room?! Yvenne still hadn't left the bathroom. I was afraid that I would still be awake by the time she came back out. Curse my own sobriety for not storming out of the room earlier to go pass out in a bar. I'm sure it wouldn't have been half as complicated as staying here.

~~

I awoke the next morning to the musical styling of Boy George.  I sat up in my bed, turned toward the wall, and began pounding on it. "Turn the volume down, _asshole_!"

It should be considered illegal to play such music so early in the morning. It was barely nine o'clock. The only noise I expected to hear were the birds chirping or the garbage truck making its early morning rounds. _This_ was sheer torture. Thankfully, the neighbor turned the volume down, only after accidentally turning the knob the wrong way and creating five seconds of extremely loud music. 

Half dressed, I stumbled out of bed and toward the bathroom to splash water in my face. The night before was practically forgotten. On my mind now was a rather obscure 'vision' I'd received just before waking up. It had something to do with women with makeup on, smiling for cameras. I didn't understand it. 

Maybe clairvoyant minds need to be normal guys' minds, too. You know, ones occupied with swimsuit models and the like. I suppose.

After the first splash of cold water on my face, I felt a tug on my shirt. I straightened my bent form and reached for the towel. Faleron waited patiently for me to address him.

"Yes?"

"The car is gone and so is Yvenne."

_Oh. Fuck._

_"What do you mean she's gone?!"_ I yelled. When I saw him cringe, I groaned and crouched to his level. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Now, what happened, Fal? What do you know?"

He glared at me, not hurt by my outburst at all, just a tad bit annoyed. "I woke up half an hour ago because I was hungry, and Yvenne wasn't around. She'd never moved the covers, so she obviously never crawled into bed." He pointed toward the door. "I looked outside to see if she slept in the car, but the car wasn't there, Vinny!"

No, no, she wouldn't. Would she? No! She couldn't! …Could she?

"Are you sure she didn't move the car?"

The young boy lifted his foot and pointed to his sole. It was dirtied, probably by walking outside barefoot. "I looked. She's nowhere. Her stuff is gone, too."

_Money…_ I panicked and reached down the side of my boxers, feeling for the tiny drawstring bag that was always at my hip. Faleron wrinkled his nose at me, turned around, and retreated to his bed again. I promised myself to explain it to him later.

When my hand closed around the tiny bag, I let out a deep sigh of relief. At least I had _my_ money.

And Yvenne had hers. Yes, she had _hers_. Her purse was ten times as filled as mine with dozens of credits, lined up in their little plastic rows. She'd been supporting us a lot lately. I hadn't paid for a hotel room in ages. The short little bookie witch had been the breadwinner for weeks now.

"Do we have any clue as to where she's gone?" I asked Faleron, now trying to count how many nobles and coppers I specifically had. _Twenty… twenty-five… twenty-six, twenty-seven… TWENTY-SEVEN ONLY?_

Faleron was starting to get dressed. He reached for the remote and turned on the Holoscreen to the news. "She left us, Vinny. Get over it. I know I'm the child and I'm the one who's not supposed to accept the separation, but that's okay. I'm fine with it."

I dropped my money to the ground and gave him a scathing look. "Now I know you did not just apply a divorce metaphor to this, you little pipsqueak."

He smiled nonchalantly and continued to dress. I rolled my eyes and sat down. 

This was _just_ what I needed. One stupid encounter and now I was back on my own—well not technically on my own. Faleron was here. But that was the problem! I couldn't care for a kid by myself! I couldn't drag him with me as I tried to find my parents! That's what Yvenne was for! To keep him distracted from figuring out the truth. I knew she wouldn't figure it out, but that little genius of a snot-factory could have figured it out. I saw it with my gift like it was written on his forehead.

Collapsing backwards, I stared at the ceiling for an extended amount of time. I recognized vaguely that I was hungry for breakfast, but I wouldn't have money for breakfast tomorrow, so why bother with today? I could spend that money on something else, something…

"Vinny."

"Shut up, Fal. I'm thinking."

"Vinny…"

"Fal! Didn't I just say that I was thinking? You have pocket change. Go outside to the vending machine and get something to eat," I ordered, closing my eyes.

He got up and headed toward the door. Before he exited, he giggled. "I just wanted to tell you that Yvenne's on the Holoscreen. I think she looks pretty."

_Huh_? I sat up and directed my gaze to the flat screen against the wall. A line of women dressed in long, semi-formal dresses were smiling at the camera. A local beauty contest. _No…_ At the end of the line was a short young woman, curvy at her sides but so stiff-backed, one could see she wasn't really happy to be there.

"Yvenne, you fool…" I murmured, wide-eyed and unblinking in shock. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Why? Why did she do that? I know I'm an asshole, but how did that tie in with her entering a damn pageant? My anger was stronger than my confusion. And I admitted that I was a bit hurt—hurt because I got screwed over in the most heinous way. I should have known better. What else is this stupid gift for?

I supposed that we had better go after her. I'd rather not have her company if she was going to be like this, but _someone_ needed to watch out for Faleron. I couldn't do it alone. I'm not the parent that she says I could be. I refuse to be stuck with this job.

Yes, the reason was as selfish as that.

Faleron came back, munching on a granola bar. He sat on the bed as if nothing had happened. It was hard to believe he was just a child when he acted like this. The boy was definitely taking it better than I was. Good for him. 

"Watch the news," I told him. "I'll be ready soon and we'll hop on a bus."

I went into the bathroom and took a shower. To tell the truth, I took my own sweet time. Hell, I even shaved for the first time that week. There had been stubble on my chin for days. Why should I have hurried? The damage was done. She wouldn't move on from her beauty contest until the day was over. 

While I was shaving, I received a small premonition from my gift. The sudden shock of it caused me to jerk, the razor slipping against my jaw and cutting across my skin an inch. I dropped the razor onto the bathroom counter and grabbed a tissue. I dabbed at the bright red blood while cursing my gift's incredible timing. 

It would have been strange to have left half my face still rough with week old stubble, so I tore off a piece of the tissue and laid it over the cut, letting the blood soak in and hold it there. Then I carefully continued my task, trying to ignore the little vision that had been sent my way.

By the time I was done, the cut had long since stopped bleeding. In fact, it looked like a day old scar. At least there was an upside to being a freak. I threw the bloodied remains of the tissue into the trashcan and inspected the scar. It was still a little pink, but the skin was not broken nor did it sting with pain.

"Let's go, Fal. Are you ready?"

The boy was lying belly-down on the bed, watching the continued news coverage of the local beauty contest. He turned his head toward me, looking at me through half-lidded eyes. How irritable he was. "I've _been_ ready, Vinny. You've been in there forever! Now let's go! I want to see Yvenne looking pretty."

"Well, doesn't she look pretty enough from the holoscreen?"

"What do _you_ think?" he asked me, trying to trick me into a word trap. I glanced at the image of all ten contestants standing in front of a building. Each had a large white ribbon (their names were written on them) draped across their fronts. They posed for the cameraman, arms gracefully placed at their sides and smiles pearly white. 

I spotted Yvenne at the end of the row. The earlier vision I had received reminded me of screams and frustrated cries. I looked away. 

"I don't know. Whatever you think," I replied. "Come on. Get your stuff. We're getting on the first bus out of here."

As we rushed for the bus station, I thought to ask him on his opinion on the whole matter. "Why do you think she's run away like this? She's not necessarily known for having feminine impulses."

The bus was already there. We paid for our seats and got on, feeling the bus rise slowly as it hovered and speed away. We should have taken regular transportation. It would have been cheaper, albeit slower.

"Well, you're the one who rejected her. Maybe she's trying to reassert her female identity in her time of weakness," Faleron answered.

 _Smart aleck._

"Wait a second! Were you listening to us last night? I thought you were asleep, you little faker!" It was amazing how little my sixth sense was picking up these days. I had received fewer of my 'visions'. I also hadn't received physical little impulses to warm me of potential mishaps (I got splashed with puddle water from a passing car just the other day). I suppose I was spoiled, growing up with this charm on my side. 

How in the world did she manage to find a beauty contest _and_ all the clothing and make-up she would need? I suppose I ought to give her resourcefulness more credit. But understand that I really don't see the good reason behind this. What good will come from it? None. Will she really be satisfied if she wins? Won't she feel worse if she loses? It would be doing her a favor to stop her and resolve this mess.

There's a reason why I rejected her. I could never _say_ it to her face, of course. After all, my story was unbelievable. I didn't think she'd buy it. More than likely, she'd be insulted that I made up such an incredulous story instead of telling her that I don't like her.

I was not attracted to her. That's true. But that's cruel to say. It's also cruel to tell her that I have a rule about not being involved. As a matter of fact, it doesn't matter _what_ you say. The infatuated ones always take it personally.

There's very little in the world that really catches my attention anyway. Most of my mind is governed by supersensory impulses that make me into Madame Ruby, the psychic. And the rest of my weird body also makes me the Amazing Bionic Man.

Basically, both my body and mind are a big mess. Some would envy my gifts. They seem to forget the drawbacks:

1) I'm miserable.

2) I make other people miserable.

3) I'm alone.

4) I have no control over my fate, even if I _know_ my fate.

5) Did I mention I was miserable?

6) I have to lie, cheat, and steal to get my money.

7) I'm afraid that the Gray Men will come back for me.

8) I'll be in a straitjacket for the rest of my life, once they do find me.

9) And oh, let's not forget that I'm still miserable.

I feel like tap dancing—don't I look so happy? Don't be discouraged if you haven't picked up on my sarcasm yet. You're better off, and my effort is a wasted one, anyway. I wouldn't take pity and I wouldn't give pity. So why bother?

We arrived in Carlton, a little place in the middle of nowhere with a population a little over five hundred. Most of the women in the contest were just campaigning for a future husband, standing on the stage as if they were merchandise in a storefront window. If Yvenne chooses to marry in this hellhole, I'll shoot myself out of grief—not for her, but rather for the sheer stupidity that a person could have.

The sky was bright blue. I hated the color and would have felt much more at home with gray. But of course, when do I ever get anything _I_ want? 

In what I assumed was Town Square, a stage had been constructed. I'd never seen a more picturesque portrayal of Midwestern Mithros in my life. Red brick buildings of moderate size, ground cars and hover cars mixed intermittently—all of which were shiny and well kept— polished store front windows with homey decorations and signs. I was even sickened by the number of perfectly arranged trees planted at intersection corners. 

Garden-variety flowers of red and yellow were wrapped around an arch over the stage. There was an assortment of red and yellow streamers flying everywhere, from bunches tied around lampposts to the white foldout chairs in the audience.  A crowd of locals was already gathering around. A small marching band of a dozen men were belting out a tune as if they were auditioning for the Thanksgiving Day Parade. Their uniforms were neat and their instruments polished. I'm sure this was one of their _few_ gigs.

_"Ladies and Gentlemen! May I present to you the beauties of Beauford County!"_ the announcer called over the loudspeakers. The lilt in his drawling voice more than convinced me that this was a nice, simple town. And it doesn't matter if you're a city-slicker or a townie… I'll pull a fast one over your eyes before you know what's going on.

Ten young women from ages eighteen to twenty-five gracefully ascended the stage in long gowns. I'm surprised they had reached the final stage of the contest when it was only noon. Had I missed the swimsuit competition? 

Yvenne was at the end of the line, the shortest, but the bustiest—if that made any difference. I'm sure it did, but that's just my opinion as a guy. I am entitled to these thoughts every now and then. Refusing to indulge in them is what usually separates me from the rest of my uncouth gender.

She saw me standing there with Faleron almost as soon as she got on stage. The surprise in her features was immediately masked with a pearly grin as she waved to everyone in the crowd. She wore a dark emerald green gown, strapless and accented with flower embroidery. Her hair was curled and her lips painted red. I didn't like how unnatural it appeared on her. It just wasn't the same Yvenne, who cursed me out the first time I even spoke to her.

When they announced her name as Sue Baker, I withheld all laughter and politely clapped along with everyone else. The judges proceeded to ask the first five ladies random personality questions. Then they went to intermission while leaving on elevator music to play over the loudspeakers.

At least it wasn't Boy George.

That was when we made our move. I waited behind a group of people in deep conversation while Faleron went up to a large man standing at the barricades. Behind him was the contestants' area. The boy put on a pitiable face, puckered his lips, and told the man in a shy voice that he had lost his mother. What an actor! If he pulls this off, I will spoil the little pipsqueak until he's… eleven. The guard took him by the hand and they left in search for the nonexistent mother.

I slipped past the barricade. A few costume and make-up artists were running around, and a few other people who looked out of place. Probably family members. So, I put on a 'cousinly' face (one that is not describable. Don't expect me to tell you what I looked like. Just picture this: _loser_…)

"Excuse me! Can I help you?" a woman with horn-rimmed glasses stopped me. She was middle-aged, but still a heavy wearer of make-up. _Ah, the ex-pageant winner_.

"Ah! Uh, you scared me. Sorry." I put a hand over my furiously beating heart. "I'm here… to see my wife?"

I panicked. So sue me.

"Young man, all of our contestants are single."

I blinked. _Shit_.

"Yeah! Well, Ma'am, you heard me. I woke up to an empty space next to me—" not a lie, " and I was wondering where the hell she was!" Still not a lie. I made wild gestures with my hands, emphasizing my state of distress (which _was_ a lie).

Yvenne must have spotted me again. She had probably scoured the crowds at the beginning of intermission to find me. As she rushed over, gulping and glancing nervously at the woman I was speaking to, I had the urge to cover my face with my hands for protection. I knew the Carthaki wanted to slap me, just for being there, let alone interfering. 

The bespectacled woman glared at Yvenne. "Is this your husband?"

"Susie, you've got some nerve!" I chastised loudly, getting into my role. Faking the anger was easy. Half of the anger wasn't even faked.

Now I knew she wanted to slap me. Meanwhile, Faleron and the guard, a wet-behind-the-ears local deputy if you must know, had returned unsuccessful in their search, a wild goose chase if I'd ever seen one (which amusedly brings to mind a whole new meaning to the phrase Mother Goose, but maybe that's just me). I jerked my head slightly toward Yvenne, hoping that only the boy understood what I meant for him to do.

He did. _Thank you, thank you, thank you._

"Mommy!" He ran toward Yvenne and hugged her around her legs. Her face instantly expressed shock, but her hands instinctively moved to rest on his soft hair like they always did. She couldn't find the words to express her surprise and perplexity. It was a good thing that she didn't. Our cover would have been blown and _then_ where would we be?

I approached them. "I can't believe you, Susie. You _know_ that you aren't eligible for this thing and you _know_ that I have to work! Someone has to watch him. For crying out loud, I'm not calling in babysitting favors from your mother anymore!"

It was the worst performance of my life, but the presence of a pathetic child sniffling into his "mother's" gown helped to negate my horrible acting. I meant it when I said I would pay Faleron back for this. He deserved it. 

The woman, an official I now gather, held her hands tightly in front of her. She disdainfully lifted her chin, an action that screamed 'snob', but I didn't mind. I knew what was about to happen.

"_Mrs._ Baker, you are hereby dismissed from this contest. Brock, will you go tell Clyde about the disqualification?"

The deputy nodded. He glanced back and forth from Yvenne to me. Muttering something about crazy out-of-towners, he strutted back through the barricades toward the set up of the local news channel. The daylong coverage of the beauty contest was still airing live countywide. I wondered how they were going to explain the sudden withdrawal of one of the contestants.

Yvenne became sullen as the woman walked away. She seemed to realize that there was no way to dig her self out of the hole she'd fallen into. The ex-bookie patted Faleron's head affectionately and detached his arms from her. She glared at me as she spoke to him. "Mommy's got to get her stuff. The car is parked on the other side of the square. Be good and wait for us there, okay?"

He nodded and turned to leave. He shrugged to me as he walked past. He knew the horrible earful I was bound to get for this whole entire fiasco. I smiled encouragingly at him. I'd lived through much worse. The venting of one temperamental Carthaki woman wouldn't get me down.

We went behind the temporary screen dividers to the makeshift vanities. I recognized Yvenne's bags, noting that there were two extra from last I saw the set. Picking them up, I turned to her. She had folded her arms across her chest and was staring at her feet. The other remaining contestants, previously obsessed with correcting their stray locks of hair, now noticed me—the only male in the backstage area save for stage helpers. 

"Something wrong, Sugar?" a young woman with strawberry blond tendrils asked. I was reminded of Shirley Temple for some reason, but I knew that Shirley Temple's hair looked prettier than this strange thing. 

Yvenne flashed a brief, apologetic smile. "Sorry, girls. I have to drop out." She forced out an out of place giggle. "One less girl to compete with, right?"

"Poor, Baby! Is it his fault? I know it! Who are you, anyway, Handsome?" she glared at me accusingly. The way her lips curled, though, told me that she wasn't disgusted with me. On the contrary…

"No, it's my fault. I'm sorry. We have to go." She grabbed my arm and led me out of the contestants' area.  She didn't stopped until we were far away from the other contestants. When we were now on the outskirts of the Town Square, we stopped at a bench. The car was still on the other side of the square, but Yvenne obviously wanted to talk. I knew exactly what was about to happen. I was slightly pleased. It was the first time this whole week that I knew what she was going to say. 

I wouldn't be happy to hear it, but I didn't have a choice, did I?

"You're impossible, Vince. Just impossible," she muttered furiously. Her hands were now on her hips, the green shifts of cloth of her gown making a rustling noise against the pavement. 

I sat down on the bench, setting the bags in front of me. I looked up at her, trying to keep my face straight. I couldn't. "Me? Impossible? You're the one who decides to abandon us in the middle of the night!"

"I had reason!"

"I'm sure you did, but you could have at least left an explanation—a note or something!" I stood up, using my height to tower over her menacingly. "And what's the big idea entering some stupid beauty contest? That totally came out of nowhere."

She moved closer to me, jabbing her sharp finger into my chest and causing me to stagger backward. "Maybe I _felt_ like it."

This was getting us nowhere. I had no desire to argue with my traveling companion in a public place when we had better things to do with our time. I had an agenda to keep pace with. Of course, I was the only one aware of this agenda, but I should have been able to hold them responsible to the darned schedule anyway. 

With a heavy sigh, I cocked my head toward the right, gazing at her with tired eyes. "You know, Yvenne, the contest doesn't prove who is the prettiest. It's a subjective, popularity contest. You wouldn't have won. The whole thing is pointless!" I pointed to the stage. "Physical appearances are not the sole definition of beauty. You've got a wonderful personality that determines how beautiful you are."

"Then why aren't I beautiful _to you_?!" she cried, face scrunched up as if she were about to sob.

The sky was becoming darker despite the fact that it was practically high noon. As I felt the gray closing in over my head, I decided to tell her the truth. 

"Because nothing is beautiful to me."

There. I had said it. It wasn't because I had a non-involvement policy. It wasn't because I didn't think she'd believe my story about Styx and the search for my parents. And it definitely wasn't because I found her revolting.

The fact of the matter was that I, at this exact moment in time, could not perceive beauty as I used to see it. I could not conceive of it in a world that I found increasingly more at fault with each passing day. I didn't used to live like this. Up until this year in my life, I had not cared. The matter of my ideology was ignored because it was second to my goals. I had put aside my beliefs because I couldn't validate them anyway… not without knowing where I came from and where my damn beliefs came from.

But now, I knew. The words were so clear in my mind. I glanced about me at the people. I scrutinized the trees planted lovingly at street corners, right next to the lampposts and the traffic lights. I watched the balloons moving in the breeze. I saw a child looking out of a hover car as it left the square. I saw all of this with my own flawed eyes.

Once upon a time, this had been beautiful to me. The first bite of food that I had consumed after my escape from Styx had indeed been ambrosia. My first sunset had been the basis upon which I judged all future sunsets, no matter where I was. The feel of raindrops in the fresh spring fields had been the cleanest thing I had ever felt. When I had felt that, I didn't think I'd be able to shower in a confining space like a tiny bathroom. But I did.

Those things didn't last. Not for me. I wasn't strong like that. The body is strong, the mind is not its own, and the heart… the heart has no place in life anymore.

I stopped Yvenne before she even lifted her hand. I didn't want her to console, as I could sense that she wanted to. She wanted to tell me everything she could possibly babble out. But she would regret that. And I didn't want her to regret more than she had to. That should have been left up to me.

"Come on, _Susie_. Let's get out of here." _While we still can._

She let me pick up all the bags and followed me across the square. I couldn't sense how she would go on after our confrontation. I hoped it wouldn't dampen relations. I would say that I needed her, but I don't like needing people. And she didn't need me. We were merely convenient to each other at the time being. That's all I wanted to be.

"Vince?"

"Yeah?"

"You're not going to yell at me for calling you 'Vince'?"

I shrugged. "There are more important things on my mind."

"I figured." She chuckled. "Aw, we're probably better off this way. You obviously have issues."

"Obviously? Well, gee, thanks."

"You do!" She punched me lightly in the arm. "And besides… we have a good thing going on, just the way it is. You're right. I'll hold off on the hormones. It wouldn't have been all that great anyway. You _are_ younger."

"What does _that_ have to do with anything?" I asked, annoyed.

Yvenne began inspecting her nails casually. "Oh, nothing. Inexperience isn't a crime."

"Inexperience?! A crime?!"

_Women are evil._ I consider myself lucky to have lived twelve years of my life with as limited female contact as possible. But that period of my life has been long over. Maybe this was just a subtle sign. Maybe it was a message that said the world meant to be tangled in this crazy web of infatuation and rejection. Or maybe it was just my subconscious, telling me to realize I wasn't in love with the world anymore…

…Or to realize the simple facts. I'm miserable and quite ready to stay miserable. I'll draw the line, however, at being miserable while listening to tasteless music. Yes. I'll definitely draw the line there. Boy George, my ass.

~~

**Author's notes**: Hope you liked! I'm starting to develop Vinny into a less structuralized speaker. As he's traveled, he's picked up on being less formal, more at home with his vulgarity. It was easy when he was alone. He had very few people to practice his rudeness on, so now having an audience 24/7 has had quite a negative effect on his vocalizations and thought patterns. Ah well. Too bad for him.

As for my constant references to Boy George… I don't mind any of the music so much anymore, but my friend heard a few songs and nearly bawled with tears. She's anti-80's music, and I couldn't help but express her in here. Heheh… 

I didn't get a chance to edit this chapter. It's raw and unedited, so if you see mistakes, do forgive. I've been driven mad by homework…

Tell me what you think! Email, review… do whatever! Your opinion is _wanted_!


	7. The Gray Men

The Gift

Episode 7: The Gray Men

_By Sulia Serafine_

This is an ALTERNATE UNIVERSE fic. This is the sequel series to It Could Be Worse, which will end with season 4. NOTE: You can read it if you have not read ICBW. It's possible. You won't get the foreshadowing and the cameos, but you will, eventually. I'd explain them. Credit goes to Tamora Pierce. I'm broke, so you can't sue me. Any other copyrighted things that don't belong to me in here in fact belong to other very businesslike people. Could you believe that? I guess that's why I'm broke.

Warning: This episode is rated PG-13, just for a few curse words. This is Vinny, guys. Come _on_.

~~

I was eating breakfast in a diner, both my companions sitting across from me at the table. They continued eating their hash browns and their scrambled eggs as if nothing was going on. Of course, to them, nothing was happening. It was _my_ mind that was being attacked, not theirs. I took my Gift's message in silence, evaluating it as I sipped my black coffee and stared out the diner's window at the passing traffic.

A man. There was a man with white-blond hair and fair blue eyes, sitting on a grassy knoll. He stared at the idyllic countryside of greens, browns, and blues ahead of him. He was youngish to me, though he must have at least been in his thirties. It was the aging of a man not meant to age, and so his countenance was dubious. He could have pretended to be younger as I could have pretended to be older. It was oddly comforting to see the same deception in others.

Why was he sitting there like that? Like _that_? I could feel his emotions. He was engulfed by his sadness. I couldn't understand. I had the impression that he had everything he wanted. Everything except… What was it? What was missing? Couldn't he move on without it?

As the clouds shifted, the sun shined across him more than it had before. The man took off his leather jacket and laid it gently on the grass. Then he laid himself down, folding his hands behind his head. There were tears clinging to his eyelashes, but the man quickly screwed his eyes shut and banished them. Safe again, he stared at the clouds and slowly drifted off to sleep.

"Yo, Vince? You okay?" Yvenne's voice pierced my darkness.

I wanted to get up and run away. No, I wasn't okay. Since when was I _ever_ okay? 

"I think I have indigestion," was my lame reply. I softly beat a fist over the center of my chest as if to expel the inner burn. They went back to their breakfasts as I returned to mine.

Perhaps I would meet this man soon. I didn't understand why such a vision had come to me. Usually only things involved with my current place and time were shown to me. If this was a new ability, I wasn't at all sure if I was happy to have it. 

"Are there any huge expanses of countryside? Farms maybe?" I asked casually. Luckily for me, there was a quaint painting of a farm on the wall. _Thank you, Mr. Interior Decorator._ I pointed to it. "We had good luck last time we were at a farming community."

Yvenne narrowed her eyes at me. "You had nightmares the last time we were at a farming community."

I shrugged. The only reason I wanted to know was because of that man…that _man_ sitting on the grass. He didn't belong there. The way he was dressed was that of a city-dweller, an urban misfit. What was he doing out there in the isolation of nature? And why did he think he could just barge right into my head like that?

It was pointless to blame someone that didn't even know what he was doing. But that was the worst of all. He didn't know what he was doing. He was sad and confused. He was questioning something in his life and he didn't know what direction he was heading in. He truly didn't know what in this life he was doing.

I did not pity him. There were millions of unsatisfied people out there. What the hell gave him the right to be above everyone else and think that his emptiness should just sit there and rot? You should stop your own suffering by actively seeking the cure. It's impassivity like that, which makes me sick.

"Let's go. I don't want to stay here any longer." We got up. I tossed some money onto the table. We headed toward the door as Yvenne began talking.

"I was going to take us to the sports bar. I have a team I want to bet on. I've been keeping track of the guys they're playing against. The rival team recently switched halfbacks and I really think this will be a good one to cash in on," Yvenne insisted. I nodded without listening. I was mentally beyond the horizon while they stood in the diner.

Faleron suddenly tugged at my shirt. I was still somewhat distracted by my earlier vision. It left so many questions, whose answers I didn't particularly look forward to. Faleron tugged on my shirt even harder than before. Sighing, I looked down at him and—

I was gone.

~~

_"Okay, that's it. Just one more big push for us there," the doctor said. She carefully repositioned her hands, ready to receive the rest of the infant emerging from the womb. _

_The woman panted. She breathed through puffed cheeks. A nurse dabbed at her sweating temples and her flushed face. Her bangs were already dampened against her forehead. With a great cry, the woman braced herself for the strength to give one final push._

_"There it is! It's a boy!" the doctor announced joyfully. The nurses and aides quickly eased the baby into a small blue blanket while the doctor cut the umbilical cord. They cleaned off the placenta on mother and baby. The child's wails and screams were evidence to the tiny one's entry into the world._

_The woman collapsed back onto the pillows, completely drained of all energy. As her eyes fell closed and her fists, formerly clenching the hospital gown in extreme pain, now relaxed and went limp, one of the aides noticed that the delivery had been too much on her._

_"Doctor! Doctor! Miss Aonir, she's—"_

The doctor turned around. She gasped. Suddenly, the whole room was a flurry of panic and emergency. Someone wheeled over a heart monitor while another attached the sensors to the woman's body. Directions and stats were yelled. The delivery room had now become a room of chaos. At the door, a familiar man stood smiling. His skin clung to his brittle, skinny frame as if he were a scarecrow. The dark circles under his eyes were the indicators of nights spent laboring over paperwork. His sallow skin was sickly, but it was quite obvious the man was not in any pain or need of help. He seemed to draw the shadows to him, as a magnet of darkness. Doctor Chiles. ~~ 

"VINNY!" Faleron yelled.

"Whoa! What?" I nearly jumped into the air at the loud screech I heard from beside me. Yvenne was there again, glaring. She narrowed her eyes. _Oh, lucky me! _ I was about to be bitched at.

"Did you not hear—"

"—A single word either of you have said? Yeah, I heard," I sighed. I knew that Faleron had been asking me to take his stuffed Coldfang to a shop to be mended. There was stuffing coming out of the tail. Yvenne had offered to take Faleron to the sports bar so I could do some hustling on my way back to the shop. 

I shook my head, trying to rid myself of the interrupting images and words that had barreled into my mind. "No, I don't want to get my cards out. I'll just pickpocket a few nobles and see if I can't find a sucker or two with baggy pockets and light wallets."

She obviously didn't approve. "I don't want you stealing."

"How is it any different from hustling? Both cheat."

"But those hustled chumps are to blame for betting their money," Faleron pointed out.

I growled in this 'screw-you' sort of way and backed off. "I'll hustle. Fine."

I wouldn't really hustle, but I was also a promise-breaker as I was a liar, a cheat, a thief, and an arrogant son of a bitch. There was no room for chivalry in my current situation. I felt like I was running out of time, despite the fact that I had all the time in the world. The double whammy of visions had caused my head to turn upside down.

My gift was telling me something. It was telling me something _very_ important. If I didn't pay attention to these scenes it was giving me, it could spell disaster for anyone, including myself. 

Faleron ran ahead to fetch his Coldfang. The nearest seamstress shop was a block down. I could easily charm the woman there into mending a tiny hole on a stuffed animal, especially if I mentioned I was a single father raising a child on my own. Sympathy was an excellent weapon for the drifter who doesn't care that he's selling his soul.

Back to the situation at hand: as we waited on the curb, Yvenne turned to me. She started to say something, her head tilted toward her left shoulder as if she wanted to lean her head against something, but wouldn't. Her hand scratched the back of her neck.

"I apologize beforehand in case I bet on the wrong team."

"Then, you should let me do it. I'm better at this," I replied. It was simply a fact that my gift allowed me to pick the right team almost every time. Money only came to us when I handled things such as this.

She snorted. "I used to be a bookie. I know how to bet, Vinny."

I shrugged. "Whatever makes you happy. I'll come by the sports bar on my own time. If I'm not there by this afternoon, feel free to go out to dinner and come back by seven or eight."

"It isn't going to take the whole day to get a stuffed Coldfang mended with a needle and thread."

"I have some other errands to run. And it would be wise for me to earn a little bit extra while hustling, just in case your bet doesn't go as we intend it to. You see what I mean?"

She let it slide, but not before giving me a wary eye. "Oh, fine then. Faleron! Do you have it?"

The boy ran to me, handing me the little fake animal of cotton and polyester. Then, he departed with Yvenne. Neither of them was looking forward to spending the lunchtime watching a football game, but at least it would keep them away from me. 

Explaining why I had to go to the hospital and seek out an orphaned newborn would be pretty difficult. It had to be done. That shadow of a man, "Doctor" Chiles, had reentered my life, like a thief in the night. He would take that baby away to Styx. I just knew it. I couldn't let him do it. I couldn't let him take another soul and destroy its future.

Sure, I was supposed to be looking out for only myself. But you see, this was different. This was _revenge_. And coincidentally, it also happened to be heroic and glorifying. Boy turns into a man. Man conquers childhood fears. But really, I just wanted what he knew. If I could back that man into a corner with some sort of weapon, I could get information out of him. I really think I could.

Then, I could turn Chiles in, get reward money for catching a child molester (he wasn't, but they're both on the same level, don't you think?), and disappear before anyone decided to check my background. The only problem: the Gray Men might also be here to help their beloved doctor.

I was older now. S_tronger. _I could take them. Or at least get my skinny ass kicked while trying to.

As I ambled down the sidewalk with a small knapsack containing the stuffed Coldfang, I let my mind wander back to the baby I had seen in my vision. If Doctor Chiles had been present, then it could only mean this child was like me. It was gifted in some way, making it a candidate for Styx. Was this how Styx found its victims? 

I had been a baby at Styx. We had all been brought to Styx as infants. But as far back as I could remember, I could not recall ever seeing babies in that netherworld. They had probably hidden all their children away until the appropriate age when they would be suited to schooling and education. What next, then? The pre-school years were still unknown to me—as were the post-school years. Where did they move their freakish adults? What was the purpose of our existence and our training?

Nothing ever answered my questions, only created new ones. My quest for knowledge was a twisted, unhappy one. It was… all I had.

Without realizing what I was doing, I began bumping into people and pick pocketing whatever was available on their person. The actions came naturally. My brain was finely tuned to whether or not a person would react sensitively to the touch or whether the person would become suspicious of me and talk to me. Clairvoyance was a pickpocket's dream.

Too bad it decided to take a break today and screw me over. 

"Excuse me, young man. I'd like my wallet back. While we're at it, I'd like my badge, too."

I slowly turned to face the man who had just addressed me. Coal dark eyes under thick straight eyebrows stared me down. I gulped and discreetly handed him his wallet—and his detective's badge. 

_DJPF. Oh son of a—_

"Don't you have anything else better to do than steal from innocent people?"

In an incredible impulse of stupidity, I shot back, "How do you know they're innocent?"

"How do _you_ know they're not?" he replied, cross. He towered over me by a head. His low voice reminded me of that guy on Dragnet. A Joe Friday... If I were capable of such petty fear, I would be peeing in my pants about now.

I attempted to shrug it off. "In this modern day and age? No one's innocent. As a detective, I'm sure you've seen the worst in everyone you've met."

"And if I haven't?" he chuckled.

"Are you going to arrest me, then? Prove that society can be reformed by putting me in jail while another little thief is born to take my place?" I snapped, slightly angry. I didn't like this man. I especially didn't like that he had caught me. 

What was it with me? I had been getting soft for the longest time now! First, I take on companions. Second, I keep one of them when I could have been rid of him. I retrieve another and apologize for my rudeness. I look after them as if they were more than my money trees… _And_ I get caught! Me! Vinny Winston! 

If I were a melodramatic pre-teen, this would be the part where I would jump onto my bed face down and scream "My life is _over_!" and then sob like a little baby. 

The DJPF detective continued smiling crookedly at me, knowing he had found my weakness: pride. He scratched the side of his face, shadowed on the lower part because of the stubs of facial hair. He surprised me when he shrugged in my similar fashion and laughed. "You're right. Locking you away doesn't accomplish much, but it's always a start. You know what, though? I like you. Get out of here. If I never hear about you ever again, you'll stay out of jail."

"What makes you think I won't go back to stealing?" I challenged.

He shook his head. "I don't think you'll stop. I just don't want you to do it on my turf. The name's Ansil Groten. If you ever need someone to set you straight and get you back on your feet, I'll be around."

I glared at him distrustfully and began backing away. "Whatever."

"What? Don't I get your name, kid?" he asked.

_Who_ is _this guy?_ I thought. Since I had nothing to lose, I replied, "Vinny."

It wasn't as if he could track me down by knowing my nickname. Styx would be looking for Coram Vincent Winston. And Styx didn't work with the DJPF, so I had nothing to worry about. All I had to do was go about my business, away from this detective's area, and I'd be perfectly fine. The strange man nodded to me as I began to jog away. I had to admit that I was a little freaked out by the encounter. 

And I thought _I_ was a weirdo.

The strange detective was out of sight and out of mind long before my arrival at the hospital. Everything was white, except for the waiting room chairs, which were a comfortable pale blue meant to visually calm a person. The effect was lost on me. The holoscreens on the walls displayed the news or soap operas. The faint smell of "get well" flowers still lingered in the air. 

But it was the other smell that I paid attention to. The smell of frequent sterilization of instruments and well, everything in general didn't bother me as much as I thought it would. I suppose you could take me out of Styx but you couldn't take Styx out of me. I was ashamed to realize that I felt at home in this setting. Sick and injured people surrounded me, waiting to be tended to. And me? I was sick in a way no one could hope to comprehend. Sick, sick, sick.

I went up to the information desk. A woman there in white scrubs with tiny cartoon teddy bears all over them looked up. "Can I help you?"

"Yes, I'm looking for the nursery? My buddy just had a baby," I told her, holding up Faleron's Coldfang peeking out of the knapsack. A stuffed animal would have been such an appropriate gift. Such a darn shame I will never have the opportunity to give such a toy to a child. _Yeah, right_.

The woman smiled and pointed to her left with a pencil. "Go to the elevators at the end of the hall. It's on the second floor right when you get off."

I replied my thanks and walked away briskly. As I concentrated dully on putting one foot in front of the other, I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand straight up. Shivering, I searched around me with my eyes. There was a partition curtain recently wheeled out of a patient's room. I quickly ran behind this. Pressing myself against the wall, I hoped not to be seen by those men who had just exited the elevator and were now coming toward me. 

My gift had actually helped me today. I was surprised it took so long to do so. As I snuck a furtive glance around the curtain, I could see Doctor Chiles walking away. He had a happy bounce to his steps. His companions, big fellows built like football players, also seemed pleased. They hadn't snatched the baby yet, but they would. 

They had probably just confirmed the baby's special abilities. How did they do that? I couldn't possibly see how they had found me when I was born. My talents weren't exactly on display like a label on my forehead. Perhaps they—

The truth came to me in a blinding flash of light. _Chiles, you bastard!_ I could see it so clearly now, whether it was my natural intuition or my gift that showed it to me. Doctor Chiles was one of _us_. He possessed the ability to spot others who had extraordinary powers. Thankfully, he had been too caught up in the new baby to sense me behind the curtain. To think: I was that close to being caught…

I skulked down the hall, my head lowered. If I wanted to corner the man, I'd have to find a different approach. But first, I would take away his little prize and get my revenge. 

Upon reaching the nursery, I noted how many hospital workers were around and what tasks they focused on. There was a woman currently going over each plastic crib, checking the health of each baby. Another woman was dozing off behind her information desk. The waiting room at this area was empty for the time being. I stayed out of full view and peered at the rows of cribs behind the glass. 

I'd have to come back at night to do this. How else would I hope to sneak the kid out without being seen? I hadn't done this sort of thing since I broke out of Styx. And I guarantee you, sneaking around, as a 12 year-old runt is easier than sneaking around as a tall teenage punk. 

It was still before lunch. Perhaps if I came back in the afternoon, I could set to work on doing whatever it was I would do. My plans were somewhat blurry at that moment. The only thing I knew was that I would grab the kid and run. 

There were details, though. What was the frequency of people passing back and forth in the nursery, in the nursery's waiting room, and in the path to the elevator? What sort of people would be present? What jobs and tasks did they perform? And if I couldn't sneak my way out the front door of the hospital (of course, I won't) then where else would I go? There was the emergency exit, the regular entrance, the stock entr—

Okay. Stock entrance. There we go. That was where the trucks of supplies checked in and unloaded their large boxes of equipment, bandages, hospital gowns, and so on. It was perfect for nighttime excursions, considering that these deliveries would most likely occur during the day.

In the meantime, I planned to pace the hospital, keeping out of sight from Doctor Chiles and the Gray Men. I needed several other routes by the time I went through with this. I should have known this hospital by the back of my hand by the time I went through with my vengeful plan.

~~

It was dark at seven o'clock. I must admit, I preferred to pull this off sometime past midnight, but Yvenne and Faleron were expecting me at the sports bar after dinner at the latest. How long could I keep them waiting without giving them reason to question me? 

However, that's the least of my problems at this moment. I had to concentrate on sneaking the Aonir baby out of the hospital unnoticed. I'd made several routes in my head: one in the occasion that I get caught and must run with baby in arms, another if I couldn't get to the stock entrance, and so on, so on. 

The one event I had not chosen to plan out was the coincidence of bumping into Doctor Chiles. I had to wonder, how did _he_ steal these babies time and time again? Perhaps I was going about this the wrong way. Surely, it would be easier since this child's mother died after giving birth. But what did the damn man _do_ to just waltz out of there with the kid?

As I wondered about this, a frumpy woman wearing chartreuse pants and a matching floral sweater walked past. I stared at the short woman with wide eyes. On her left shoulder was an identification badge. She was a social worker with the city's orphanage. 

I felt a sudden rush of happiness similar to finding a hundred noble bill lying in the street. I thankfully perceived with my gift that this woman was going to fill out the paperwork at the nursery desk, then go ask her partner Bill to take the baby out to the car.

Bill. I had to find this Bill, knock him out, tie him up, and get his damn ID badge. I ought to take his pager, too, just for good measure. The woman was bound to page him. I knew in the back of my mind that it was wrong to be using these people as pawns, but if you looked at it from my perspective, I was doing them a favor! Chiles would have kidnapped the baby soon enough. The kid is better off with me than with that evil piece of scum.

That thought decided everything. I swiftly walked in the opposite direction of the social worker, keeping my eyes open and alert. _Bill. Billy Boy. Bill-o-rama… where the hell are you?! I have to mug you, you inconsiderate, nowhere-to-be-found jerk!_

I suppose you could say I was a little tense.

I went back down to the front desk, just in time to see a young man of similar height and build walk in. He had on a ridiculous multi-colored sweater vest and khaki pants. He flashed his identification badge by the front desk and was told to go up to the second floor. Now was the time to work my magic. 

He went to the elevator, where I had already set my trap. He waited impatiently for the doors to open, but they wouldn't. I had 'sabotaged' the keypad on my way down so that he would have to take the stairs, where I would be waiting. I climbed up a few steps so he wouldn't see me upon entering the stairwell. Things were going too well. A grin was plastered on my face, showing how strangely giddy I was.

As soon as he closed the door to the stairwell and turned to the steps leading up, I leapt from my perch and tackled him to the floor, stuffing a hospital gown I swiped from laundry into his mouth. The man struggled, but I was stronger. To make sure he hadn't seen my face, I turned him onto his stomach as soon as I landed on him and twisted his arms behind his back.

"Relax, pal. I'm not going to kill you," I told him, sensing his anxiety. His thrashing ceased, though I now suspected that he thought I was going after his wallet. I simply knocked him out with a blow to the back of the head. I wasn't interested in his money. Well, maybe just a bit. I had to keep focus on my objective. As his body relaxed on the floor, I ripped off his ID badge and clipped it to my shirt. Then I removed his pager from his wrist and wrapped it around mine. It was a nice model. It had a planner and a calculator programmed, even a few games like Tetris. I looked enviously at the prone form. _Yuppie…_

I picked Bill up and slung him over my shoulder. Taking him to the basement was the most logical thing to do, though I wouldn't tie him down or let the gag remain in his mouth. He would be out for a long time, and only sustain a huge headache upon awakening. By then, my task would be done.

As I set him down in the shadows, his pager began beeping. I checked the tiny screen. The frumpy woman from before was telling him to pick up the child while she went to the ladies' room. I was only too glad to oblige. 

I exited the stairwell, making sure no one saw me. Then, I proceeded to undo my work on the elevator (I had only loosened the keypad. I'm not a vandal, you know). I went up, whistling a tune. It was around seven thirty. I would be able to meet my companions by eight if everything went according to plan. 

The nurses on the second floor spotted me right away. They had already picked up the child, wrapped him in a blue blanket, and had a small care package to go with the baby on the trip. I greeted the women cordially, making small talk about how quiet and peaceful the child looked as he slept. I put the care package into my knapsack, although I almost dropped Faleron's Coldfang from it. 

"I'll tell Dottie that you already went to the car. She'll finish up the paperwork and meet you at the front drop-off area," the head nurse said, smiling.

I thanked them. They gently handed me the child. He was a tiny, almost weightless little being in my arms—very warm and very… something. There weren't any words for it. I glanced away, trying to keep my mind on task. If he was going to stay warm and safe for the rest of his life, he would have to go into my Witness Protection Program. That's all there was to it.

As I turned to go, I slowed my step and paused. Doctor Chiles was in the elevator. I could see him in my mind, about to exit and greet me with a malevolent smile. I quickly scanned the hallway. There was a ladies' room sign down the hallway.

"You know, I'd better just wait for Dottie outside the bathroom," I chuckled to the nurses and started striding away. I had only a few more seconds before that elevator door opened. If I was going to confront that man and demand my information, I certainly couldn't do it while vulnerable with a baby in my arms.

The little tyke was still asleep even as I turned the corner and hurried to a second elevator. I pushed the down button repeatedly. Chiles would try to sense me and the kid when he found out that the child was missing. 

The elevator finally opened. I rushed inside and quickly closed the elevator doors. The descent down was not a comfortable one. My heart was pounding furiously. This was the closest I had been in years to being dragged back to Styx. It made me want to vomit.

The baby stirred, making a little noise and moving its tiny mouth as if he were yawning. It occurred to me that I couldn't have Yvenne and Faleron watch over the kid while I bargained with Chiles. They would start asking all these questions that I wasn't prepared to answer. There was only one person I could go to who could take the kid, no questions asked.

He'd better not rub it in my face.

~~

The light blinked on just as the door slid open. Ansil looked out wearily, wondering who could possibly be at his door at dinnertime. His thick eyebrows rose in a sign of surprise as he gazed upon me, and then the baby. His mouth formed a small "O", as if he wasn't sure whether to say something or just gape.

"I need you to take this kid and protect him for a few days," I said immediately, before he could find his voice. "Take him to an orphanage in a different city where no one can find him."

Ansil shook his head. "What the heck is going on? Where did you get this baby?" Despite the objection in his voice, he held his arms out to take the small bundle. "You in trouble?"

"Do you think I'd be here if I weren't?" I retorted. "Look, I don't like asking favors from people and I most certainly don't like having to look out for someone else besides moi, but if this kid doesn't make it out of here, he's never going to be free again."

The finality of my voice seemed to strike a cord in the DJPF detective. He ran one hand through his hair, still very perplexed as he looked down at the infant in the crook of his arm. The child began to stir, making a tiny sound as he wiggled in his blankets.

"What's his name?"

I hadn't thought of it before. "Aonir…" I began. "Wallace Aonir."

Ansil nodded to me. I took it as my cue to go. I started jogging away, wondering what in the _world_ had possessed me to name a child that I would most likely never see again. And to name him after _Wally_ of all people!

"Hey!" Ansil suddenly shouted. I stopped and jogged back a couple of steps.

"What?"

"Where do I reach you?"

I shook my head. "You don't. I'll check up on you every now and then. Just don't tattle like a prick, okay?"

He began to say something, decided better on it, and nodded. It's intelligent men like him who realize that they sometimes have to do things that violate protocol to get the best results. Ansil didn't want to help me like _this_. But then what? Where would I have taken the baby? Would I have taken _care_ of the baby? These sorts of questions prompted the detective to give in and accept his drawn lot. He held the infant closer to him as if doing so would make me stay. I looked away.

With that last problem settled, I prepared myself to leave. If he had called out to me a second time, I wouldn't have answered. There was no time to waste. I could go back to the hospital now and confront Chiles about everything he knew. 

As I walked, the wind began blowing, pushing against me back toward Ansil's place. Holding my arm in front of my face, I pushed forward, leaning into the force that blew me backward. I wished I had called a taxi. I wasn't going to make it back to the hospital or the sports bar in time to complete either of my objectives.

Just as I was about to turn the corner, an invisible hand grasped my heart and gave it a gentle squeeze. I halted and gasped. The wind died down and suddenly, I could hear a leaf flutter to the ground. I could feel every bit of cold air blowing across my body. I could feel the false radiance of the half formed moon above me, making me silver and sick with its ghostliness.

A man turned the corner. I knew him before I saw him. His leather-patented shoes made a clip clop noise on the sidewalk, a hollow sound that was as loud as my heartbeat. I shivered as I let my gaze travel upward. Each part of his body was clothed in the most fashionable fabric. Each square inch was worth more than my pathetic existence. It normally wouldn't have intimidated me, but this time, it only served to make me step back in fear—a most alien feeling.

This man scared me.

"It's starting to get cold out. Not the best time for a walk, wouldn't you say?" he observed casually while coming to a stop in front of me.

Bright aquamarine. Pure water on an iridescent wave. Pearls washed in on the surf.

I averted my eyes from his. "I'm in a hurry. I—"

"Need to speak with an old doctor friend, I'm sure," the man said, adjusted his shaded spectacles on the tip of his nose. His laugh was silvery. For a moment, I was almost certain that he would float up into the air and become a moonbeam. Sick and silver. Sick, sick silver.

He knew me. How did he know me? Why did he know me?

The man clasped his hands in front of him. "He's already left the hospital. I wouldn't bother, unless you wish to get caught for kidnapping a child." He paused and shrugged innocently. "He wouldn't have been of any use to you, anyway. He knows nothing."

"But you do," I breathed. This was it… This… _This_…

"I know quite a number of things. But I can't tell you. I promised myself that if I ever found you, I would let you find everything on your own." He frowned. "I shouldn't have made such a ridiculous promise. It only means that you'll have to suffer more. More than _he_ did, perhaps."

"Who's _he_?" 

A barrage of seemingly unconnected images suddenly attacked my mind. Gray skies and rain splattering on my windowsill. Streams no longer flowing, but stagnant with the ice of winter. Cold, cold, sick silver, and a vortex of blue that made me wonder if I was dead. That is what I saw. This was 'he'. _This_.

"No one," he replied. What cruelty there was in those words…

The wind picked up again. I felt myself surprisingly woozy from the sudden rush of reality around me. I closed my eyes and forced myself to breathe evenly until I could trust myself to move without collapsing. As I opened my eyes, I felt the gentle squeeze on my heart again—a tickle at the base of my skull, too. Then it was gone.

And so was the man.

I eventually hailed a taxi and arrived at the sports bar very late. Yvenne yelled at me for being irresponsible and disorganized while Faleron sat by and seemed to be reading my thoughts. I glared at him as I handed him his stuffed Coldfang. As I did this, the baby's care package fell out of my knapsack. 

Yvenne picked it up and cast a suspicious gaze upon me. "What is this?"

"Something I picked up. I get what I can whenever possible," I told her. I was in no mood to play this game with her, this yelling and accusing until our throats were hoarse. Yvenne got the message. She gradually let the mystery go and asked me if we could attend a few horse races that week. She had lost her bet on the football team. 

Dinner had been wonderful, though. Spare ribs and spicy hot chicken wings. Faleron began telling me about all the wonderful food I had missed while plotting a now to be eternally incomplete mission. I felt my stomach grumble. In a rare show of thoughtfulness, Yvenne handed me a takeout box she had gotten from the sports bar. I would be allowed to eat in the car while we drove to a vacant parking lot that night. 

"No hotels tonight, huh?"

"You shouldn't be complaining. It was your turn to have Faleron sleep in your bed, not mine," she muttered while climbing into the car. Faleron and I followed suit, settling into our respective seats with the air of familiarity.

Yvenne started the car. We drove away, a calmness wrapping itself around the people inside our car like warm shawls. I leaned back and closed my eyes.

"Vinny?" I could hear Yvenne say, concerned.

"Vinny."

_"Vinny?"_

No, not now.

"Vinny," the blond man whispered. "Coram Vincent Winston. Cor… Vince…. Coram Vince…" He continued to babble different versions of my name until they all ran together like a continuous droning noise. He was staring at me with those eyes of his, those glacier eyes. 

As I reached out to touch him, he moved as if he meant to hit me, then drew back his arm as if I had been the one to attack. He retreated down the grassy hill. His emotions were a heavy cloud around him: confused, angry, hopeless.

I returned to the passenger seat of the beat up convertible, shaking my head slowly. I bit down on the tip of my tongue to stave off any impulse I had to discuss my most recent—most advanced—visions. There was something fateful about this day. What was it, you ask?

Damned if I know.

~~

Author: Hello, hello! Hope you guys liked this installment of The Gift. Oooh… more allusions to ICBW, oh whatever could they mean? I'm open to any predictions you might have, but I won't tell you what will happen next. That would take the fun out of it, wouldn't it? 

So! Tell me what you think! Review or email!

Ciao

-Sulia S.


	8. Crawling in the Dark

The Gift

Episode 8: Crawling in the Dark

_By Sulia Serafine_

This is an ALTERNATE UNIVERSE fic. This is the sequel series to It Could Be Worse, which will end with season 4. NOTE: You can read it if you have not read ICBW. It's possible. You won't get the foreshadowing and the cameos, but you will, eventually. I'd explain them. Credit goes to Tamora Pierce. I'm broke, so you can't sue me. Any other copyrighted things that don't belong to me in here in fact belong to other very businesslike people. Could you believe that? I guess that's why I'm broke.

Warning: This episode is rated PG-13, just for a few curse words. This is Vinny, guys. Come _on_.

~~

You would think that I'd know what I was doing by now. To tell the truth, I was still as clueless as I was years ago. So perhaps my search was useless. I was probably better off settling down in an urban environment. Maybe I ought to have lived in Carthak. It was familiar ground at least. 

What could have possibly inspired such thinking? Why now—after I'd done so much?

The summer would end soon. That was why. Faleron had promised Cleon Kennan that he would return home at the end of his school vacation. Meanwhile, Yvenne had made plans to live in Port Legann. There were financial opportunities there for her to start all over. Of course, it would be based on a fake high school diploma that I helped to forge, but she was smarter than any high school graduate. At least I thought so.

She invited me to live in Port Legann. Not with her, of course. That would be too forward and we'd already had a very heated argument (okay, okay… _confrontation_) about that when she ran away to the beauty contest. I responded with a very non-committal answer that usually had a hopeless connotation: "I'll think about it."

Meaning? I _did_ think of it. And I thought: "No." But I didn't tell her that. She might have thought of us as friends, but I didn't want to be in the company of friends forever. Sometimes I ached for my isolation. It would have been strange for anyone else, but I missed it. In the middle of the night, I would wish to lie under the stars in an open field, like I had when I was still a boy. Instead, I was staring up at the plaster ceiling of a cheap motel or the cracked leather roof of a convertible. The sounds of my companions, breathing deeply in slumber, offered me no comfort. It gave me only a growing dislike for sleep as the weeks passed by. And I used to _like_ sleep.

The end of the summer haunted me. Both my companions planned to move on with their lives. They had such clear futures. There was no uncertainty for them. Not like me.

I hated the idea of Yvenne and Faleron leaving me. I wouldn't miss them terribly, but just the _thought_ of people walking away from me… It made me think of the parents whom I'd never known—walking away. I didn't want to meet my parents to know why I was separated from them. I'd made that clear from the start. I didn't harbor a deep desire to be apart of a family. I just… I _hated_ it. I hated the thought of people leaving me as if my birth was just a passing fancy and that I wasn't worth even a single thought.

I _was_ worth a damn. I didn't care if anyone thought the same, but I was not about to endure the reminders of others that I wasn't. I had to be the one to leave first. It would hurt, I thought. Just at first. I wouldn't have a heart if it didn't hurt to leave. I might have admitted I was a self-centered jerk, but that didn't mean I wasn't human.

Okay. Bad word choice.

Let's try that again. Ahem. I might have admitted I was a self-centered jerk, but that didn't mean I was _heartless._

Much better.

Yvenne and Faleron visited a science museum on the day I had finally decided to leave. They had been in one of their cheerier moods and had chosen to amuse themselves by walking through the popular hands-on exhibits that demonstrated various principles of nature. How amusing could it have been to touch a glass sphere and have your whole head of hair stand on end? Not much, if you ask me.

I must have sat on those museum steps for hours. I had come back from my money-hunt a little anxious. By that time, I had planned out every single step I was to take from there until Carthak. The wait in front of the museum had been just a detour. 

After a few minutes of waiting, my mind had concocted a game, a rather twisted game that kept me occupied nonetheless. I began to count fifty-second intervals. If Yvenne and Faleron exited the museum while I was counting an even number, I would stay. If they exited on an odd number, I would bolt and not turn back. 

As childish as it was, it did help. It took my mind off the shame. This idea of mine was beginning to hurt me, even before I had left them. To alleviate even more of my guilt, I lied to myself. _If they exit on an odd number, then it's their own fault that I'm leaving._

I didn't want to face the truth that I was the cause of my own unhappiness. I was unhappy if I stayed with them. And I was unhappy if I left. A part of me wanted to be free of my search and free of my companions, as I used to be. The other part of me had begun to depend on Yvenne and Faleron like crutches. If I left them, my sadness would be equal in every way to that of my other choice. Either way, I was going to be very, very sad.

Walking in a cloud of misery, I accosted the food vendor on the sidewalk for no reason at all. I insulted his hotdogs as I ate the damned things, stomping away in a huff with my mouth full. My counting game had ended. I had imagined that my companions had exited the museum on an odd number. It was an excuse for me to go to the car, get my things, and leave.

One problem. The doors were locked.

_Nice to know Yvenne trusts me,_ I thought sarcastically. I glanced around me. No one in sight. It would be hard to explain that I was breaking into my own car. The hunk of junk wasn't even registered. They would haul me into the jail and I'd have to page Yvenne to get me out. That would earn me a lecture. Not to mention a debt from bail money that would have to be repaid. 

I may con men and women out of their money every day, but I always repaid a debt to a friend. Friends… Now _there's_ trouble. If it weren't this loyalty for friends, I wouldn't be in this mess! If I had only walked away in Carthak! Yvenne admitted to being able to take care of herself! And she could back that claim up so easily! Why did I have to be the showoff and get involved? And why had I chosen to enter that one casino? If Faleron hadn't been there at the time, maybe—

There go the if's again. No more of that. I was clairvoyant. There were no if's for me, just visions of the future.

The convertible's declinable roof now sported a small fist-sized hole in it as I stuck my arm through and undid the lock. Once that was taken care of, I gathered my belongings into my usual knapsack. I had obtained a couple of extra garments over the weeks, as well as a few new fake IDs.

Afterwards, I sat on the cracked leather seat, wondering what else I had to do. Half an effort went into the creation of my next idea. A sloppy message scrawled onto the back of a gasoline receipt announced my departure in four simple words: _"Don't look for me."_

They'd get over it.

~~

The train looked like a long centipede to me. Each compartment was a segment of the insect, and its hundred busy legs were instead the great wheels that went down the steel tracks. All other details that made the train appear more like a manmade thing and not a giant bug were hidden when the sun shined upon it. All I could see was a long line of silver light, a bright uncomfortable glare characteristic of summer life. Summer would be over soon.

I sighed as I boarded, flashing my ticket and my fake ID to the conductor. This man actually took pride in his job. He wore a starched navy blue uniform with polished brash buttons. He had even styled a thick mustache like those conductors of a century before. It almost made me smile to see him wave his flat-topped conductor's cap around as a whistle emitted its shrill sound and the train began to move. 

Since I hadn't many bags, I only stowed one satchel overhead while my knapsack remained between my feet. I occupied a booth in the corner of the compartment. The cushions were plushier than I expected for second class (third class was more probable for economical reasons, but I wanted _edible_ food). I leaned back and rested my feet on the seats facing me.

My mind surprisingly chose not to linger on either Yvenne or Faleron, who at the time were probably exiting the museum and wondering why I hadn't caught up with them yet. Instead, I daydreamed about that one place, which haunted me the most… the place where little children grew up as freaks, never to be seen again at the threshold of adulthood.

I was on that threshold. At seventeen, if I were still in Styx, I would be worrying myself to death over the enigma of the eighteenth year. That was the last year a patient was seen in Styx. With the arrival of nineteen, you were simply gone. What happened to the patients when they grew up? Did they become Gray Men? Were they led away like lambs to the slaughter? 

At once, a picture formed in my mind, one of ghosts. Young men in their gray hospital uniforms slowly evaporated into intangible spirits. Perhaps they simply disappeared. 

But if that was the case, what was the purpose of our lives? Why educate us? Why provide us with physical exercise and social interaction? There was something I wasn't seeing here. Something I wasn't allowed to see. I had strained my mind many times as a child, trying to envision what it all meant. A snippet of this future, a tiny smidgen of that.

No. I could see many futures and prevent as many as I wanted, but I could never see what happened after that eighteenth year.

I closed my eyes and let out a deep troubled sigh. Problems such as these shouldn't have been in my head on the start of my self-imposed sabbatical. An hour had passed and I needed to relax, or else come apart at the seams.

"Whether you like it or not, things do fall apart," a familiar voice spoke from beside me. It was a nice baritone, but somehow just as soft as a tenor. Melodious.

"What?" I opened my eyes immediately and sat up straight, my feet hitting the floor of the train car with a loud thump. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, a shiver racing up my spine. I fought to regulate my breathing—somehow I had started to hyperventilate. 

"Hello again," the man said. His aquamarine eyes gazed at me kindly from behind his shaded spectacles. 

I instinctively leaned away. "Are you stalking me or something?"

The white haired man shrugged. He brushed a piece of invisible lint off the shoulder of his suit—made from silkworms and such, I bet. "I didn't plan on it, but you've seemed to force my hand by running away from your friends."

"Force your hand? What business is it of yours?" I snapped. My hands balled into fists. I'd fight if I had to, even if I was kicked off the train for the disruptive behavior.

The man was amused. "You're very interesting."

"I'm sure by interesting, you mean 'screwed'."

He laughed. "Perhaps."

In a very nasal, mocking voice in my head, I repeated his laugh and his _"perhaps"_. Who was this guy? And why was he following me?

"You're not meant to go to Carthak," he said to me. His face became more serious. "And so, as I think it befits your safety, I've come to offer you two choices."

_Choices? He's come to give ME choices? Who does he think he is? _ My feeling of resentment toward this man tripled instantaneously. I glared at him. I even pictured myself opening the window of the booth and throwing him out of the train headfirst. It might not have been a realistic scene, but it sure as hell comforted _me_.

"What choices?" I finally asked, my voice straining to hold back the bitterness.

"You can either return to your friends or come with me." He paused. "I know the last time we met, I had told you of my oath to not assist you or answer your questions, but things have changed. You are not safe while being alone. Unseen forces seek you out this very moment, Coram."

I reacted immediately. My body jerked at the last word, almost causing me to fall out of my seat. I turned my body toward my visitor while pressing my back defensively against the side of the train car. My hand slowly reached down toward my bag, searching for anything that I could use as a weapon.

"Who _are_ you? First, you know about my plans. Then, you know about my friends. Now, you…" I shook my head disbelievingly. "You know my _real name_?"

"I know many things. I always have." He reached out a gloved hand, intending to calm me. I slapped it away and scrambled over to the other facing seats. The farther, the better.

My heart was pounding so heavily, I feared that it would burst from my chest at any moment. All the tiny hairs on my body were now standing on end. I couldn't suppress the shudder that threatened to rattle my entire frame to pieces. The man seemed disappointed with the turn of events.

"Vincent," he said gruffly, like a man to his rabid dog, "please calm down. I only have your safety in mind. There are not many people you can flee to for protection. Your friends will discourage attacks by their mere presence while I will hide you from these perils entirely."

I glanced around nervously. Sometime during my long daydream about the "eighteenth year", everyone in my train car had left for the serving car to get lunch. I scowled and ducked my head back down. "Who says that you and they are the only ones I can go to for help? Ansil Groten will help me."

I was pretty sure he would. Well, maybe… Of course he would! …Wouldn't he?

"Ansil Groten is not to be trusted," the man warned. His voice dropped an octave in a way that reminded me of natural disasters. Floods, fires, maelstroms, earthquakes. He was pure, uncontrollable terror.

"Fine. So what then? Who or what exactly am I protecting myself from?"

"Who do you think?"

The skeletal face of a familiar older man made itself present in my mind. Chiles. I cursed silently, digging my nails deep into my palms, almost drawing blood. This was the last thing I needed. I muttered another crude oath before averting my eyes to the windows. The passing countryside suddenly became so much more fascinating than the stranger that still gazed at me with growing fondness.

"You're just as stubborn as your father," he sighed.

_My…_

_Father?_

I turned my head back to my visitor, but it was too late. He was retreating down the aisle, slowly, as if in a death march. Over his shoulder, he called to me. I was paralyzed, unable to stop him from leaving.

"Get off at the next stop. Go back to your friends. You're not ready to come with me, yet."

My eyes wandered to the seat where he had been. A ticket lay on the cushion. It read that it would give passage from the next stop, all the way back to where I had started my journey. I stared at the little plastic token, instead of watching the white haired man exit the train car. 

In my shock, I began realizing many things. First and foremost, I would still travel with Yvenne and Faleron. I would continue my search and I would stay by their sides for as long as I could, even it meant only until the end of the summer. I also knew now that I could not trust Ansil Groten. I had planned on contacting him again in a few days, but now I couldn't. But most of all, I discovered that I had an ally, an aquamarine-eyed wolf, not dressed in sheep's clothing, but tiger skin.

And I, the Boy who cried Wolf.

~~

"You've got some nerve, Vinny Winston! If you _think_ I'm just going to forgive your little stunt as if nothing happened at all, you've got another thing coming! Why, of all the arrogant, I'm-a-lonely-tortured-soul excuses I've seen, _yours_ has got to be the most _pathetic_ thing I have ever—"

I decided to tune her out after that. Obviously, Yvenne hadn't taken to my wanderlust explanation very well. Faleron, on the other hand, was acting quite calm. He sat beside me, licking an ice cream cone. When our eyes met, he offered me an apologetic smile, and returned to his cold treat.

The two of us sat in silence while Yvenne raged on. It was best to let her get it out of her system. She was in no state to listen to reason, so I wouldn't bother. It would clearly be a wasted effort.

I had just begun to daydream about what sort of ice cream flavor _I_ preferred when I suddenly sensed an oncoming assault and raised my hand to block Yvenne's slap. What I didn't sense was that her other hand was ready and caught me on my other cheek. My eyes widened as the sting spread across that side of my face.

Serves me right for being lazy, but _damn_… does she _ever_ let up? I rubbed my smarting cheek, trying to dissolve the pain there. I winced under my seething female companion's burning gaze. She folded her arms across her chest and shot me a look that was as good as throwing me into a six-foot deep hole.

"Did I mention that I was sorry?" I mumbled uselessly.

"Hmph!" she turned on her heel and walked away. I didn't understand how mad she could get in only three hours time. For all things that had happened, they had only spent one afternoon in confusion of my disappearance—not days or weeks. I had returned to them on the same day I had left them, just in time for dinner.

A part of my punishment was to pay for that lavish dinner. This made no wonder of Faleron's choice to eat three ice cream cones in a row. I was tempted to take one of those cones and squash the treat against the side of my face. The coldness would be a brief help to what was sure to be a red handprint on my cheek for hours.

The boy and I got up from the bench and followed the silhouette of Yvenne in the setting sun. We didn't speak to each other. I was already forgiven in the younger boy's eyes. Forgiveness came easily from him, a tribute to his boarding school's instruction on manners. I looked ahead at the bristling young woman. She had yet to stop muttering obscenities under her breath.

Safety? _Safety_? How could returning to have myself smacked by Yvenne be considered safety? I should have gone with the stranger. Somehow, I'm sure I would have been in safer hands there than I was going to be _here_… with _her_.

"Vinny!" Yvenne's gasped, her outraged voice catching my attention from several yards ahead. She pointed to the hole in the convertible's flimsy roof. She obviously hadn't seen it before. Faleron patted me consolingly on the arm and—for his general protection—took a few steps to the right, away from me. As I helplessly watched her march up to me, brimstone blazing in her eyes, I let loose another deep sigh.

_Right back where I started from. I'm about as safe as a mangy cat stuck in a pit full of wild dogs… Okay, not mangy. Perfectly groomed, sweet smelling, purebred—_

_Ow._ I raised my hand to my other cheek, wishing that I could shrink out of sight from the woman before me. I stood silently as I endured another lecturing. It seemed that I would have to repair the hole in the roof myself, if I wanted to live with all my appendages intact. The number of tortures she began threateningly describing caused me to wince.

My hand strayed over my crotch protectively when I heard the words "meat cleaver".

~~

Author's note: Hope you enjoyed! It was a short episode for Vinny, but the halfway marker for the rest of the series. Now we're starting to get into the _real_ scheme of things. Vinny is finally starting to close in on some answers. But will he ever find the truth?

Thanks for reading—don't forget to tell me what ya think! Reviews and emails greatly cherished!


	9. Name

The Gift

Episode 9: Name

_By Sulia Serafine_

This is an ALTERNATE UNIVERSE fic. This is the sequel series to It Could Be Worse, which will end with season 4. NOTE: You can read it if you have not read ICBW. It's possible. You won't get the foreshadowing and the cameos, but you will, eventually. I'd explain them. Credit goes to Tamora Pierce. I'm broke, so you can't sue me. Any other copyrighted things that don't belong to me in here in fact belong to other very businesslike people. Could you believe that? I guess that's why I'm broke.

Warning: This episode is rated PG-13, just for a few curse words. This is Vinny, guys. Come _on_.

~~

_"What's in name? That which we call a rose by any other word would smell as sweet."_ Right? Isn't that how it goes? Willy had a good idea there, didn't he? I didn't see the major significance there was in my own name. At least, I never cared about the possibilities… until that one day at the gas station. 

It's funny. People name things often for reasons of sentiment. Sentiment! You wouldn't believe how much sentiment really matters when it comes to giving things a name. They give many public institutions the names of heroes, dead or alive, to glorify their namesakes in broad view of the world. Conté Square in Tortall. The Malorie Public Wildlife Park at Goldenlake. Hell, even little Faleron was named after someone.

These things, these people and places—they're all about keeping some memory alive. I, myself, thought that there was nothing special to my name. In fact, I hated it. I opted to use my middle name instead. Not even that! I used a nickname of my middle name! How could I see the pride that was to behold in "Coram", since no one had ever taken me aside and explained _why_ that name was chosen for me? 

So, you could imagine the shock I received when I finally learned the origin of it. On a fine Sunday morning. In the lazy little lands in the northern Mithran region. While minding my own business.

~~

I was fueling up the car. Yvenne was asleep in shotgun while Faleron was sprawled across the backseat. We had been picking out new things to put in Yvenne's new apartment in Port Legann. The end of the summer was fast approaching and she wanted us to help her spend her hard-earned cash. (She had just cashed in by selling one of her stocks and was incredibly giddy for days.) So, we cruised around a couple of outlet malls and pretended we were interior decorators. 

Would you believe I had a knack for picking out good tile patterns?

So, there I was, daydreaming about the rather smashing selection I had made for Yvenne's apartment (coral and white tiles in a unique multi-diamond formation, if you must know. Très magnifique, if I do say so myself) and leaning against the gas meter. Yvenne had already made me patch the hole in the convertible roof with my own money, but she had given me her money for the gasoline. 

After filling the tank up, I went inside to pay. The gas station that we were at was as typical as I had expected. There were a few aisles dedicated to candy, chips, and other items most popularly forgotten and needed when on a trip. I went to the refrigerators in back and got a bottle of water. I could always refill the bottle with tap water later. Cheapness is as cheapness does.

At the register was a woman in her mid to late twenties. Dark sausage curls surrounded her head, just barely touching the nape of her neck. She looked up from the cash register to see who had just entered. When she saw my face, her mouth opened in silent astonishment. 

"You," she murmured.

I frowned. I approached the register slowly, placing the bottle of water on the counter. "I'm sorry, have we met?"

The woman shook her head. "No, no, I'm sure we haven't. You just… look familiar." She bit her lip. Her eyes never left my face. "I'm sorry. My name is—"

"Kimmy?" I finished out of "instinct".

"How did you know that?"

_Shit. Nice going, idiot. Think fast._

"Uh, your nametag," I replied, shrugging. I hadn't even looked at her nametag.

The woman glanced down at the piece of plastic pinned to her shirt. "It says Kimberly. How did you know my nickname was Kimmy?"

_Why me? Why_ always _me?_

"A guess?" I quickly pushed a few nobles toward her. "Here. For the gas and the water."

She rang the purchase up. Kimmy took her time. She was still watching me as her hands passed over the bills and coins. Finally, she held out a hand holding my change. I hastily took it from her and shoved it into my pocket. Without so much as another word, I grabbed the bottle of water and strode quickly toward the door.

"Wait!"

I stopped and turned my head. "Yes?"

"What's your name?"

My mouth went dry. "Why?"

Kimmy was embarrassed. I could tell by the pinkness of her cheeks. "You remind me of someone. I just wanted to know… I know. It's stupid. But for the tiniest chance that you…"

An invisible hand was tugging my intestines in her direction. It made me slightly nauseous at first, but I gave in to my intuitions and approached her again. It always felt horribly sickening to deny my premonitions. This wasn't an exception. I took of the cap of the water bottle and took a sip. As I was regaining moisture in my mouth to speak, I glanced out the window. My companions were still asleep. 

My tongue darted out to wet my lips. Perhaps this woman recognized my parents' features in my face. And if that was the case, who was I to deny her an answer? I let out a deep breath. "My name is Vinny Winston."

"What?" Her eyes widened.

I grimaced. "No." When I saw her crestfallen look, I shook my head. "Well, my name _is_ Vinny Winston, but, uh, my full name is Coram Vincent Winston."

And suddenly, she wasn't looking at me, but through me. I could tell by her misty eyes that there was a picture in her mind of someone… someone I didn't know. The idea of it drove me crazy. I marched up to her and grabbed her arm. She cried out. Kimmy snapped out of her reverie and focused on me again.

"What? What is it?" I demanded.

She swallowed reflexively. "You…" She seemed as if she was having trouble breathing. "You're not lying? Your name is as you say it is?"

"I'm not lying," I assured her. I released her. My hands itched to slap some sense into her. Did she know anything? She had to tell me! If she didn't, I didn't know how I could control myself. This was the biggest lead I had ever come across in my search! "Do you… know my family?"

The woman frowned. "You mean, you don't?"

"I've been on my own for as long as I could remember."

The bell over the door rang as Yvenne entered, stumbling from drowsiness. She yawned. "Vinny, what's taking you so long? Come on, let's go."

I took an involuntary step back from Kimmy. My heart was pounding. Closing my eyes for a few seconds, I could see a red and blond haired man opening a door. My eyes opened again. I turned to Kimmy. "Is there someone you know that I should meet?"

"How did you…?"

"Just tell me!"

Yvenne rolled her eyes. "Vince! Come on!"

She slammed the glass door behind her and stalked back out to the car. Kimmy began to scribble an address down on the back of a receipt with a stubby pencil. She handed it to me and wiped her hands on her blouse as if something had stained them. I stared at the piece of paper in my hands.

"What is this?"

"There's a cluster of hotels and fast food restaurants not too far from here. You'll see a mechanic's repair shop on your right if you continue going east on this road. That's the address." She was trembling now. I wouldn't have been surprised if I was, too.

I pocketed the paper and nodded in gratitude. "And who am I looking for?"

"Smythesson. Coram Smythesson."

~~

And so, there you have it.

"In real life, unlike in Shakespeare, the sweetness of the rose depends upon the name it bears. Things are not only what they are. They are, in very important respects, what they seem to be."

I don't know who said that. It has been a long time since I read that inside Styx's library. But it reminded me of certain truths. At first, I considered that perhaps it didn't matter that my name was Coram. I acted like Vinny. So, I was Vinny. But then, I worried. Maybe whoever had named me also possessed the ability to see into the future. Maybe I was named not because of dedication or sentiment, but because I had been foreseen to be like Coram Smythesson. Whoever that was.

Honestly, I wasn't looking forward to finding out.

Back with my friends, I started the car. My hands did whatever was required of them automatically. My mind was somewhere else, as if in a trance. I recited the address in my head over and over. It didn't matter. Kimmy had said that the place would be in full view on my right. Of course, on my right. The world always mentions who shall sit at the right hand. It doesn't take too kindly to those who sit at the left.

I was rambling to myself in mystic allusions. By the time I saw the mechanic's repair shop on the right, I had digressed into a shell of my formal self. What a ravaging revelation this would be. It would hurt to hear the truth. It would hurt to hear anything strangers had to tell me about my parents.

After I pulled into a parking space and turned off the engine, Yvenne stirred and sat up. Faleron remained blissfully asleep, for that I was thankful.

"What are you doing?"

What AM I doing?

"Stay here, please. I have to take care of some business."

She wanted to protest. I held up my hand pleadingly.

"Please, Yvenne. Promise me that you'll stay here no matter what." I gave her a meaningful expression. She sighed and nodded. She didn't want to, but she would keep her promise.

"Vinny, I don't understand."

"Neither do I," I confessed with a bittersweet smile. 

I got out of the car and approached the inside of the garage. My skin was tingling. I hated having a sixth sense for danger. But there was no danger to be found here. Unless I counted the truth as dangerous. And maybe it was. I knocked on the closest wooden thing I could find, a chair. An older man with a short gray beard stuck his head out of a small dirty office. 

He gave me a once-over and spat something brown on the ground. Chewing tobacco. Yuck. "Yeah? What do you need?"

"I'm looking for Coram Smythesson."

The old man nodded. "He's above the shop. First door."

I exited the garage and found a rickety fire escape that led to what was obviously living quarters above the shop. Yvenne and now Faleron were watching me from the car. She must have woken him up as soon as I had gone inside. I bravely waved at them, mustering up the happiest smile that I could fake. I was afraid of what I really looked like. Faleron had pouted and moved away from the window.

Lifting my hand to knock on the door, a wave of apprehension filled me. It was like taking a test, having guessed on more than half of the answers, and now being represented with the score in a confidential envelope. Part of me wanted to see what was inside, but the other part of me wasn't sure if I wanted to find out.

Fear never bothered me much. But lately, it seemed to be making up for lost time by attacking me when I least wanted it. Scolding myself by recalling the vision I had seen in Kimmy's presence, I knocked loudly three times on the door and withdrew my hand. I combed my hair with my fingers nervously, hoping I looked presentable. First impressions were key. They sometimes changed the future.

Does this man know my future? More importantly, does he know my past?

The door opened, swinging away from me as the man who opened it took a step forward. He had red hair with blond streaks. The color of his stubble, however, was deep auburn. He was perhaps a decade or so older than Kimmy. Creases lined his face. It didn't seem appropriate. He wasn't the type who aged so soon. If it hadn't been for extreme trials and tribulations carving age into his body, he would have been quite the looker still.

When his eyes rested upon me, he almost stopped breathing. His world had stopped turning. That was the sort of look that men gave when they didn't think their lives could become any more confusing. It was a more intense version of the stare that Kimmy had given me. He looked away after a few seconds, wiping his large hands on the front of his white T-shirt and the thighs of his torn jeans.

"Hey, boy-o, what's happenin'?" he greeted, as if he knew me. His accent made me feel a little more at ease. It seemed so friendly. And, despite all my desires to be isolated from people, I wanted him to be my friend. He shook my hand. The man had a strong grip, but not too strong. He wasn't testing me to see if I had the courage to squeeze back.

"Are you Coram Smythesson?" I asked, though it wasn't necessary. This was Coram. If it wasn't, I wouldn't feel this weird and insecure.

He nodded. Coram stepped back from the doorway to allow me to enter. "Come in, come in." As soon as I entered the intensely bright room, he closed the door behind me. I blinked, wondering what bright fluorescence was being used. He noticed my discomfort and laughed gently. "It's a spare shop light from the garage below. They're supposed to be that big and bright. I don't turn it on so much."

He walked over to the center of the messy living room and reached up to tug on a chain that hung from the three feet long shop light. It turned off. Random colored shapes danced before my eyes. They eventually faded as Coram parted the window blinds and faced me.

"Yer just as she said ye would be," he whispered, more to himself than to me.

I rubbed my eyes. "Who said what?"

"Kimmy. She called five minutes ago and told me to expect ye." He went to the couch and threw off random pieces of trash from it—pizza boxes, tools, burger wrappers. He sat down and patted the space beside him. I joined him there, fidgeting with the hem of my shirt like a kid again. "She also told me that ye don't remember yer parents. So, what is 't? Are they dead? They abandon ye?"

I shivered a little. It felt like I was in the Twilight Zone. Could this be real? Or was it a TV documentary on the strange and paranormal? "I don't know. I've been in… a, uh, orphanage since I was a baby. I don't know who they are or if they're dead or not." I cleared my throat nervously. The lie didn't matter. Hopefully, this man wouldn't lie. "Did you know them?"

Coram nodded. "I knew yer father for a while. I wasn't too sure when Kimmy told me that some lad with the name Winston was walkin' around. But," he paused to allow himself to study me carefully, "seein' ye here. With that nose and those eyes. That chin! And most of all, that damn blond hair… It's like meetin' yer da all over again."

He stood up and walked toward the small kitchen. "I'm gettin' somethin' to drink. Ye want anythin'?"

"Uh, water, I guess. I don't drink beer," I added when I saw that he had reached for a dark brown bottle.

"Good to hear 't," he chuckled. "It's better that ye don't. It's a coward's way out, but I'm a hypocrite as well as a coward." He handed me a paper cup filled with cold water while he used a bottle opener to pop the cap off of his bottle and take a gulp.

I sipped only a tiny bit. My eyes were glued to the man sitting beside me. I was still expecting him to go up in a puff of smoke as if he didn't exist. This was still too good to be true. A man who happened to know my father? It was like a book I had read. Serendipity, they call it. Yeah. That's about right.

"How old are ye, anyway?" he asked.

"Seventeen."

Coram leaned forward so his elbows were on his knees. He twisted his head toward me and seemed to be scrutinizing me again. "Really." He looked ahead of him. By the absent-mindedness of his hand gestures, I could tell that he was trying to remember something. Finally, he nodded as if in agreement with a voice in his head. "Yup. Add nine months to that and that should be about the time… Yeah. Hell, I thought I just knew your da. I think I know who your ma is, too."

Would it be so corny if I said that it was as if the clouds had parted and a ray of light had shone down upon me from heaven? The angels were chorusing 'halleluiahs' in the background while I stared in utter shock at the man beside me. He grinned and patted me on the shoulder.

"So. Were ye wantin' to hear about him, or what?"

"Yes," I begged. I'm ashamed to say it, but yes. I begged. "Please."

The man drank from his bottle again and nodded. "Right. Well, yer da was a fine man, named Jack Winston. If 't weren't for him, I'd be dead right now, and Kimmy, too."

"What did he do?"

"Ah, well, I was livin' in Tusaine back then. The city was corrupt and run by the leader of the reignin' mafia. I worked for him. I'm ashamed to say it now, but you hafta understand! When yer a poor man in that city, ye need allies to watch yer back." He sighed and shook his head. "I was into street racin' back then. One of the best. If only I had gone somewhere else to make my racin' debut! Anyway… one night, I meet this blond—not much older a lad than ye are right now—and he wins his first race.

"Well, I was impressed. Shook hands with him right away and introduced myself. But I wasn't the only one who took a shinin' to the impressive Jack Winston." He looked me in the eye as if telling me to pay special attention to the next part. "The leader of all criminal activity in that mafia was a strange, mysterious man. He took Jack under his wing very quickly. Jack and I did all we could to stay in his good graces. It's the sort of thing that you have no choice decidin' over. Ye do it or ye die.

"I had wounded myself durin' that time. I don't remember what had happened. But I knew that I was becomin' quite useless to my boss. And so, protégé as yer da was to him, he ordered Jack to kill me. Burn my apartment to the ground with Kimmy and me inside. She's my adopted sister, ye know. If somethin' had happened to her, I didn't know what I'd do." He closed his eyes in pain, as if reliving the whole night again. 

I couldn't imagine what it must have been like to be him eighteen years ago. Working for the mob? Being a criminal? Stealing is one thing. I mean… I never really attack anyone. Not unless I have to. Though Coram hadn't said it, I could tell by the expression on his face that his hands had been covered in blood once. A man with a heart and soul inside him doesn't ever forget.

Coram opened his eyes again and continued. "Your da couldn't do it. He wouldn't kill us. He shooed us out of town and burned our apartment to cover our tracks. I never saw him again." He wiped a tear from his eye. I hadn't noticed that he was becoming misty-eyed. It made me feel more uncomfortable than ever before.  "Yer da was seein' some woman back then. Her name was Julia. I can't remember her last name."

He looked regretfully at me. "I never saw your da after that night, so I'm not sure if he stayed with her. I don't think he would." He shook a finger at me. "Now, don't be thinkin' dishonorable things about him because of that. Yer ma loved yer da. I could tell by the way the lass looked at him. But, yer da..." His mouth quivered and I knew that this grown man beside me wanted to lie down and weep. "Jack Winston was weighed down by more than ye could ever know! Ye think that he was just a man workin' for the mob, but he wasn't! 

"Some days, when I looked at him, my heart broke. He was a man who'd lost the ability to feel anythin' but pain. I knew he regretted ever comin' to Tusaine. But it is a thing that is done. Yes, it's done over and over again. And the only way to escape is through death." He paused as if it were necessary to have a little moment of respectable silence for the many men and women he had known in Tusaine. "Jack would have taken care of Julia. He would have taken care of her. He tried feelin' affection for yer ma. I don't think he ever brought himself to do it, but he would have taken care of her. He would have taken care of ye, too. He may have slipped into Hell itself, but he was still a good man deep inside. He would have taken care of ye. I know he would have."

The former racer laid a hand on my shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. "If ye go to Tusaine, be very careful, boy-o. The powers that were there have left, but the city is still untrustworthy." He let go. "And if ye see your da, send him my greetings and gratitude. I'll always be in his debt."

I had been silent during this entire time. His words were sinking into me like rocks thrown into a pond. Each one made me feel a little heavier and created ripples that spread through every part of my body. I had stopped sipping from the paper cup a long while ago. I put it down hastily on the coffee table, spilling most of its contents, and I stood up. 

It took all my strength to stand. Yes, I felt heavy. Too heavy. There was a burden on my shoulders now that no one could see. Coram wore it, too. It threatened to drag us both down to the bottom of our own murky ponds, until we drowned in our many sorrows. And I knew at that moment why they had named me after him. We were of a kind of man who felt suffering, seen it in others, and lived to tell about it. It wasn't something to be proud of. No one wanted to glorify it or remember it.

It was a name. And that we would call a rose's thorn by any other word would still make us bleed.

~~

Author's note: Awww… poor guy. You think that he would be ecstatic to hear this sort of news. I guess it's the shock or the tragedy. And this from the guy who said he didn't care about his parents! It seems that the more he learns about them, the more he learns about himself. And it's not just a quest to find out what he really is, but who he is.

At least, that's what I've been able to come up with. My mind has been very muddled while writing this. My interpretation of my own story seems to have amounted to nothing. The fanfic has taken a life of its own, or should I say that Vinny has taken a life of his own? Yes, I think he has.

The first quote was the famous "Romeo and Juliet" by William Shakespeare quote. The second was from Hurbert H. Humphrey. US history. Politics, yadda yadda. It seemed appropriate.

Tell me what you think! Email or review, either's fine!


	10. Story of My Life

The Gift

Episode 10: Story of My Life

_By Sulia Serafine_

This is an ALTERNATE UNIVERSE fic. This is the sequel series to It Could Be Worse, which will end with season 4. NOTE: You can read it if you have not read ICBW. It's possible. You won't get the foreshadowing and the cameos, but you will, eventually. I'd explain them. Credit goes to Tamora Pierce. I'm broke, so you can't sue me. Any other copyrighted things that don't belong to me in here in fact belong to other very businesslike people. Could you believe that? I guess that's why I'm broke.

Warning: This episode is rated PG-13, just for a few curse words. This is Vinny, guys. Come _on_.

~~

Black. I wanted to dye my hair black.

Despite how handsome it might make me look (black hair, blue eyes… come on, you _know_ I'd be hot) I knew that it would also make it difficult to live with for many reasons. For example, if I get lazy about re-dying, someone will point out that my roots are showing. (Scandalous, I assure you.) Or people like Kimmy from the gas station might not recognize me. Why would I destroy such an identifying feature when it could very well lead me to all my answers? It wasn't so great, then, in relation to my life's goal. But it was a tempting option. Soon, you'll see why.

I left Coram's apartment and slowly descended the fire escape. Yvenne and Faleron were talking quietly. They stopped when I came down the fire escape. I knew that they were going to be surprised at my change in plans. It didn't take a psychic to figure that out. To abate their uneasiness, I pretended that nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Me? Discover my parents' identities _and_ meet my namesake? Nah. Of course not.

"Hey, guys," I greeted as I opened the driver side door and sat down. I fished the keys out of my pocket. As my hand turned the ignition, I offered a bright smile. "Why don't we take a side trip to Tusaine? I heard it was nice this time of year."

Yvenne looked at me suspiciously. "That's north of here. We're going south to Port Legann. It's not exactly a side trip if we have to backtrack the whole way there, Vinny."

How did one explain ulterior motives without giving the motives away? Ah, right. Lying.

"I have a friend up in Tusaine that I wanted to see. Just found out that she was sick," I replied, shrugging my shoulders helplessly. It wasn't the most brilliant or creative of lies, but it was common enough not to be refuted. People did get sick. Good friends visit their sick friends? Yes? I've never done it before, considering the fact that I don't _have_ friends, but they did, didn't they?

Luck let me win the coin toss this time. Yvenne nodded grudgingly. "Yeah fine."

Faleron tackled the back of my headrest and pulled on my shirt collar. "Did you talk to another friend here? Is that why you were in there so long? How come you didn't take us to meet him?"

_Gah…_ I silently groaned. Kids! Didn't anyone ever teach him that curiosity killed the kid? Er, cat? Aw, you know what I mean. All these questions were really starting to get on my nerves. Perhaps it would have been a good idea to have them hop a train to Port Legann so I could miss that train and head to Tusaine. It would have been an easy plan to carry out.

But no. We're traveling the scenic route. By lousy car.

"He's not exactly a people person. Don't worry about it." I ruffled his hair and pushed him back so he let my shirt go. 

I pulled out of the parking lot and back onto the road, heading north. Now came the semi-arduous trip to reach what may be the hometown of my parents. Coram had better have been telling the truth. I had very little doubt about his honesty, but a cautious side to me taught me to keep the possibility in mind.

It was a foolish practice to build your hopes up. At least, I always thought so. The only hope I had ever built up was when I was still a patient at Styx. A young boy believed that there was a better world beyond those hospital walls. And he was right… for a time. Now that boy was a young man. And now he knew the world wasn't as beautiful as he thought it would be.

Faleron began singing softly. "We're off to see the Wizard! The Wonderful Wizard of Oz…"

Ah. I glanced at the dark haired boy in the rearview mirror and allowed myself to smirk. A grumpy girl at my side and an exuberant child behind me. The story of my life.

~~

Tusaine was the kind of place I'd like to go to when I was desperate. Seriously. There were very few hustlers working crowds in the downtown area—less competition for me. And the number of pay-by-the-day jobs caused my head to nearly spin. If I ever needed to go someplace with a guaranteed market of jobs or gullible wealthy idiots, here was my paradise! Here, was _my_ town.

_Goodbye, Carthak,_ I thought, grinning widely. We were in the car, cruising down the street. The open market was bustling with activity. I could see women leaning out their windows having shouted conversations from across the street. There was a group of men sitting on stuffed cardboard boxes, reminiscing about old times. It was quite an active urban environment.

Faleron seemed just as excited as I was. He was bouncing up and down in the back seat, impatient to get out of the car and explore the city. Yvenne was a different story. She slumped in shotgun, propping her knee up against the dashboard and pretending to count the number of tiny hairs on the back of her hand. I didn't care that she was being so pissy. But I did wonder why. Was it that time of the month again? Geez, I had no idea how women worked and I had no desire to find out.

"Did you know I have godparents who live in Tusaine?" Faleron piped up.

Yvenne turned her head slightly. "Oh really?"

"Yeah! This is where my family lives. I was even born here!"

_Perhaps he could be of use, after all._ "Yeah? Is that so?"

"Uh-huh. But Mom and Dad have to travel a lot because of their jobs. They work for the Council, so I never see them. But I come back here every vacation that my parents happen to be home!" he beamed. 

This was just the kind of news that I loved to hear. We stopped at a red light. I looked in the mirror so I could see him. "Hey, Fal. Do you think you call tell me where the hospital is around here?"

"Sure! One of my godfathers is always getting into accidents, so I visit him a lot when I'm in town."

"Yeah? What else?" Far be it for me to stop the kid from spilling out all the information he could. It was bound to be of great use in some way or another. I had never been to Tusaine before. I did not look forward to getting lost or running into the wrong people. Faleron here would be my little tour guide. The hard part, though, would be leaving the tour guide behind when I finally decided to see the sights.

Faleron continued to bounce cheerfully on the backseat. "My Mom always yells at Uncle Neal—he's the godfather I was talking about, he's in the DJPF—and she tells him to get a desk job if he's always getting hurt, but he doesn't want to. I don't blame him. It's boring behind a desk. And besides! He's First Class! He gets all the really fun, adventurous cases!"

_DJPF? Why couldn't Cleon be the only one?_ I thought miserably to myself. It was a big reminder that if anything ever happened to little Faleron, I would have the police all over me. No passing Go. No collecting 200 Nobles. Straight to Jail.

"Now that I think about it, nearly all of my godparents and relatives are DJPF…"

I could just picture myself dragging a chipped mug back and forth across iron prison bars.

When we pulled up at the next red light a few minutes later, Faleron pointed to our right. "If you want to go to the hospital, it's down that way a few blocks."

Yvenne sat up, yawning. She glared at me, but her tone was pleasant. "If you want, we'll pull over and I'll drive."

"Sounds good to me. I'll walk the rest of the way, and you can come by in the afternoon to pick me up," I replied, nodding. We were in the left lane, so we couldn't turn right down the street that Faleron said led to the hospital. I pulled over to the side of a hair salon and got out.  Yvenne crawled across the seat until she was behind the wheel, while Faleron remained in the back.

I walked around the car and leaned in the passenger side window. "Why don't you go to your house, Fal? Just to say hi whoever's home. Or visit your godparents. Tell them that Yvenne is your babysitter or something."

They warmed up to the idea quite nicely. Going to his very own house or the homes of relatives meant free food and free showers. And, assuming that his parents were well off if they worked for the Council, then my two companions would be getting many luxuries. I hoped they didn't mention anything that could get _me_ in trouble. They were loyal enough that they would try not to.

But I wouldn't put it past them for accidentally blurting it out, though.

Especially Yvenne. As if she had read my mind, she turned and shot me another dirty look. I had been getting dozens of those since we had left Coram's apartment. I had my secrets. She knew this. I wished she wouldn't make such a big deal out of it.

After they had pulled away from the curb, I turned the corner and began the walk toward the hospital. I could see a series of tall white buildings a few blocks away. That must have been the hospital complex. It brought a crooked smile to my lips. The bigger the place, the greater that chance that I wouldn't be caught. I could slip in and out amongst the crowds of injured and sick without ever being noticed.

Just in case, I had better watch out for cameras. A voice in the back of my mind scolded me for not bringing my hooded sweatshirt so I could at least try to hide my head from watchful eyes. It would have been a good idea to put it on even as I was walking. Why?

Because a sudden tingle on the back of my neck told me that I was going to be spotted by an unwanted acquaintance. Closing my eyes and stopping in my tracks, I waited for him to catch up. There was no point in running. He _was_ a cop.

"Hello, Vinny. Long time, eh?" Ansil Groten said warmly.

I opened my eyes and forced a smile. I hoped he saw that it was false and that he wasn't welcome. Maybe it would drive him away. No, not him. Expressions like those only make people more taunting and willing to stay. It's like an ugly, instinctive urge of men to watch others squirm in silent torment. Grr.

"Hey," I replied, pretending to be bored. "What the hell are you doing here anyway? This isn't your city, Groten."

"Call me Ansil. And no, it's not." He gave me a smug look. "I happen to be on vacation and visiting my sister."

_I'll wipe that smile off your face. Just try me._

Glancing around Ansil, I knew there was no escape. I couldn't run. I couldn't hide. This nosey detective was going to be in my business for a while and I was going to waste a lot of time trying to get rid of him. And it's not like I can call out to anyone else to help me. I'm the street punk. He's the hand of the law.

"How's the kid? Wally?" I asked reluctantly. As soon as I recited the question, his answer was already in my head. I listened to the real response anyway.

"He's fine. He's been adopted, I think." He paused. "Are you ever going to tell me how you got possession of that baby?"

Did I look like I had "stupid" branded on my forehead?

"Not now," I muttered. "I'm on my way to see a friend. I have to go."

"Then we'll meet later?" he called as I brushed past him and began to leave.

I shouted over my shoulder, "Not bloody likely!"

Just because I could. Another tingle at the base of my skull told me that I would have to meet him again sooner or later. I preferred to ignore it though. Building up hope against another meeting with him was one of the few exceptions to my rule. Yeah. I wouldn't mind not running into him again. Ansil made me feel guilty. And he made me feel like I was about to be caught. Neither was a pleasant feeling.

I put the encounter with the detective out of my head as soon as I arrived at the hospital. Another problem occupied my mind now. The birth records I needed to find would be archived in older terminals, probably in a dusty unused room filled with file cabinets. I'd seen many such rooms before. But those times didn't seem nearly as important as what I was about to do that day.

The chances that I finally find my parents had never been greater. If I screwed this up, I might as well quit. Then my life would have lost purpose. I'd become just another drifter with no goal but to survive from day to day. It was not the most appealing of futures. I wanted my gift to send me a vision of a beautiful future. Hell, jus being able to call something beautiful again would be worth the effort. Finding the truth about my origins would be the icing on the cake.

It wasn't too difficult to find a laundry room. The hospital had signs and arrows everywhere. It was one of the better hospitals to navigate. You'd think that people break into these restricted areas all the time with the ease that I got in. I put on a white uniform, one that identified me as a therapist from another branch of the complex. I browsed through half a dozen chips that I kept with me to download into my fake ID pager whenever I needed to be a different person. It was good to be meticulous in these sorts of instances.

Stepping back out of the laundry room, I immediately found the perfect victim to let me into the archives. A young man a few years older than me was at a desk, up to his elbows in papers and files. An intern, by the look of him. The panic in his eyes tipped me off. Doctors and nurses asked the poor guy to do a dozen things at the same time. There didn't seem to be enough assistants at the desk to relieve him of the workload.

I quickly strode forward, trying to look impatient and pressed for time. My acting skills had been honed by years of hustling and lying. A little too confident? Me? No, of course not. I was good. I was _better_ than good. I was perfect.

"Hello!" I called to the young man at the desk. "I need to get into the records room. Dated for about 17 to 18 years ago?"

He distracted glanced at me over three clipboards. His eyes rolled down from my head to my toes, as if doubting what he saw. "What for?"

"Look, I need the history of patient I have in physical therapy right now. I'd rather not keep her waiting," I replied, glancing at my watch. _Come on, you twerp. Just give me the key…_

"Why didn't you just request for a file to be delivered over the network?"

I rolled my eyes. "Everytime I do that, you interns always send the wrong files. Just give me the key to the room, would you?"

The intern reddened slightly from embarrassment. It was routine to check for ID before giving _anyone_ a key, but he was too unnerved by my glaring to do it. He reached into a drawer and handed me a plastic card with a room number on it. I was somewhat surprised he hadn't become suspicious of my youthful appearance and asked about me.  As good an actor as I am my handsome face does seem too good for the mere role of physical therapist. 

_Yes. It can be a curse,_ I thought as I ran one hand through my light blond hair.

Though I had no idea where I was going, the numerous signs and arrows (I _loved_ this hospital) eventually steered me in the right direction. I found the room I wanted behind a cart of dirty hospital gowns. Sliding the card through the scanner, a headache formed. I grimaced and rubbed my temples.

This was a sign. I had finally found something. It was a good feeling. Well, not literally, since I then suffered a massive throbbing of the temples. But it felt nice to know that I was on the right track. 

I quickly entered and closed the sliding door behind me, locking it to prevent anyone from interrupting me. There were several long rows of actual file cabinets with plastic and paper sheets filed away in dust. A row of outdated computers lined the wall nearest to me on the right. Transparent plastic coverings protected these rather ancient relics of technology from gathering dust. I flung the covers off and pulled up a swirling stool.

"Let's see if this thing still works," I muttered to myself as I turned the computer on. While I was waiting for it to boot up, I spun the stool around so that it elevated itself to a height I would feel comfortable sitting on. I finally sat down and began searching the database in earnest.

First, I narrowed the margin to births that had occurred 16 to 18 years ago. I had never known my birthday, and had always trusted the doctors of Styx to tell me when I had aged another year. Since I'd been on my own, I simply added one to my age every New Year's Day. This system worked for me, though I always wondered what my real birthday was. Whether I was a Leo, or a Capricorn. Yeah, even those petty little thoughts popped into my head from time to time.

Someone once told me that Gemini's get a _lot_ of fun. I sure hope I'm one.

After the field had been shortened, I searched for the name Winston. No such luck. I hadn't been expecting my mother to be listed under that name. What name a woman went by while in labor didn't tell whether or not the guy who knocked her up eventually made an honest woman out of her. But who knows? 

I didn't mind so much the thought of my parents not loving each other. It would have been convenient, though, if they had stayed together so I wouldn't have to search twice for each parent. Harsh sounding statement, yeah, but true. I really didn't care.

"Julia…" I whispered, typing the name in slowly. I clicked the search button and waited for the results.

There was a small beep from the computer telling me that its search was successful. There was one entry for that hospital, one entry for the name… Julia Litcott.

I must have stared at that name for several seconds. The green block letters on the black screen weren't letters anymore. They weren't images reproduced on a computer screen. They were a person. She was a person. My hands jerked away from the keyboard and I closed my eyes as if I had been blinded. I pressed the heel of my hands gently to my eyelids and tried to calm the series of images that bombarded my head.

A woman smiled at him. Her strawberry blonde hair fell across her shoulders in gentle waves. It looked so soft. I could almost reach out and touch the silky strands. Her fair complexion was radiant, almost glowing. If the glorious sun were transformed into a person, she would be this light-eyed, fragile creature in front of me. Motherly. That was the word. She appeared absolutely motherly.

The images were gone within seconds. I blinked my dizziness away and refocused on the screen. The details matched everything I was looking for. Approximately seventeen years ago, Julia Litcott had checked into the hospital and given birth to a boy. Unfortunately, she was unmarried and refused to give the name of the father. 

That didn't matter, though. The baby was sick. And that overshadowed all other details. The doctors had recorded that he wouldn't cry. And he wouldn't take milk from his mother. They had had to force feed him with a tiny tube and a modified IV. In fact, the baby wouldn't pay attention to anything anyone did. The doctors checked to see if the baby was deaf, but that was not the case either.

Research and care for the baby was incredibly expensive. Ms. Litcott did not have the money to pay for any of the examinations that she was being offered, but she insisted that she wouldn't give the baby up. Finally, a benefactor had donated the money to the baby's care. I scrolled down and tried to find the name of this man. It had to be here somewhere.

And there it was. Mr. Enishi Yukishiro.

At once, it felt like I had the wind knocked out of me. I knew that name. I _had_ to know that name. Didn't I? It felt so familiar. Another piece of the puzzle floated in my mind, lost and directionless. I had no idea how to connect it to my current knowledge. Once again, more questions had been created rather than questions answered. I'm starting to get tired of this.

~~

I left the hospital quickly, changing back into my old clothes and throwing the card key at the back of the young intern's head. My mood was darker now. I had an address and a name, but did I really have a person to go to? The idea of my mother being so close unnerved me. I expected something more climatic than this. At least seeing Coram had made somewhat of an impact on the way I felt.

But now I felt colder than ever. No cold as in chilly, but cold as in… heartless. It was still early in the day. A distraction was needed to take my mind off things just for a bit. After the torrent of nothingness in my head died down, I would visit the address I had retrieved. Then, I would finally see her. This woman. My mother.

There was a place to my right. Bailey's Pub. I peered through the darkened windows. Drinking, billiards, and poker. Seemed to be right up my alley. I entered without another thought and headed straight to the bar. Luckily, I still had my fake ID programmed on my pager. I didn't want anyone hassling me about my age.

It happened anyway. The bartender, a man old enough to be my father and then some, sauntered over, whistling and wiping his hands on the front of his apron. He looked like he wanted to ask me about my age, but something else more important had stolen his attention.

"Hey, can I get a beer?" I called. I know. I don't drink. Well, maybe just holding the damn thing in my hands will get me to calm down. 

The bartender shook his head. "We're out."

I raised one eyebrow skeptically and glanced at the other patrons at the bar. "No, I don't think you are."

"Well we are. I can spot a boy when he tries to be a man," the bartender said confidently. He seemed to be sizing me up. "And you are still a boy. A familiar one though." He leaned his elbows on the bar top and squinted at me. After a moment's hesitation, he held out his hand to shake mine. "The name is Bailey. You are?"

He didn't seem like the kind of guy to kick people out for being under aged. I shook his hand briefly and folded my arms across my chest. "Vinny."

"Vinny what?" Bailey pressed, narrowing his eyes.

Irked by his curiosity, I tried to force my gift to work. What would happen if I told this man my name? As per usual, when I needed my talent the most, it refused to surface. I frowned and replied quietly, "Vinny Winston."

"I knew it! I _knew_ it!" the bartender laughed loudly. He cupped his mouth and shouted. "Gratz! Noack! Get over here!"

Two men of similar age to Bailey stood up from a table in the corner and approached the bar. As soon as they saw me, their faces expressed their disbelief. One of them, a man whose nose had been broken one too many times, gaped at me. His mouth resembled a dead fish's, the way it hung open at me.

Bailey patted me hardily on the shoulder. "This is Noack," he gestured to the broken nosed man. "And the other one is Gratz. Do you know who we are, boy?"

"Drunken old men?" I supplied, slightly irritated.

"No! Well, that too… but we're also your daddy's old friends! You _are_ Jack's son, aren't ya?"

Gratz began stroking his chin. "Yeah, I can see the resemblance. Ya hafta be his boy! I wish Jack were still around so we could ask him. What happened to your dad?"

All the muscles in my body tensed. I turned slightly on my stool so that I faced all three of them. What made me so sure that this wasn't another episode of The Twilight Zone? "I don't know. I never met him. So, you guys knew him? Really?"

Bailey cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted again very loudly, "Which ones of you good-fer-nothin' old dogs remember our legendary Jack Winston?"

All the older men in the pub began raising their respective pints of beer and whatnot. They began cheering and whistling, creating enough noise to convince me that this was really happening to me. I was stunned by all the response that was given. By this time, any younger man who felt out of the loop started to cheer, too, just to be apart of whatever free rounds of beer that just might be offered to the "good-fer-nothin' old dogs".

"Does that convince ya?" Noack asked, nudging me in the ribs with his elbow. "We all remember your dad. Good man. Tough and brave! Would do anything!"

"Finest racer there ever was in these parts!" Gratz added. He guffawed and slapped his thigh. "I should know! I lost to him too many times!"

I blinked. "Racer? What kind of racer?"

"Motorcycles, you daft boy! It's your heritage! Don't tell me you don't know about motorcycles!" Bailey exclaimed. The other two men seemed just as horrified at the mere idea.

My annoyance was really starting to build. "I really wouldn't know. I haven't met him. Ever."

As much as I was appreciating the information about my father that these men were giving me, I was very aggravated with their many assumptions that I was just like him. Once again, my appearance had led people to relate me to my father. Okay, fine. But what about my mother? She was the one who I found. She was the one who was fighting to keep me while she was hospitalized. Why hadn't anyone ever mentioned anything about her?

"Such a shame," Bailey sighed. He poured me a mug of beer, as if in apology. As he pushed it toward me, he shook his head. "Such a shame. We haven't seen him for nearly two decades. Rumors and legend run wild around these parts on what became of him. No one really knows."

"I bet Mr. Y would know, if he were still here," Noack said gruffly. He took a cigarette from his pocket and proceeded to light up.

Gratz nodded in agreement. "Right! Mr. Y would definitely know what happened to his favorite."

"Who is Mr. Y?" I asked, confused. I held the mug tightly in both my hands.

The bartender glared at his two friends for even mentioning the name. He turned to me sympathetically. "Mr. Y was the leader of the mafia that ran this city back when your dad was around. There was nothing he didn't have his hand in, and nothing that went on without his permission. Like your dad, he picked up and left without a trace. But he disappeared years after your dad did, so I don't think the two are connected at all."

"Oh." Fury burned in my gut. My father had been apart of a mafia. And to top that all off, he had been the _favorite_ of the mafia's leader. It was a despicable thought. I started to view the men around me with disdain. They had probably all been apart of that mob. And now, they were washed up middle-aged men drinking in a lousy pub.

_What a nice heritage. Yeah, right._

"Look, I've been trying to find my mother. Do you guys know a Julia Litcott? Does she still live here?"

The former motorcycle racer Gratz shrugged. "She moved a couple of times, but yeah. She's still in the city." He whispered the next part. "Rumor is that she still receives annual checks in the mail from Mr. Y for some reason or another. Maybe the boss felt bad that his favorite's lady was not making ends meet and that Jack had disappeared."

Noack smacked his friend in the side. "Don't tell him that! The boy doesn't want to hear things like that, you ass!"

"It's okay," I interrupted. The two men turned to look at me sadly. "Really. Can I just have her address?"

They gave me one that was different from the one I had obtained from the hospital. At least it saved me from going on a wild goose chase. I scribbled the address down on a scrap of paper that I kept in my pocket, just in case my memory failed me.

"One more thing," I began. "What does Mr. Y stand for?"

Bailey looked disapprovingly at me. "Why, Mr. Enishi Yukishiro of course. The name still inspires fear around here. Always has, always will."

_Hello, Mr. Wizard of Oz. _

Yukishiro. Enishi Yukishiro. I thought back to the name I read in the archives. My mother's benefactor. My father's mob boss. A man, known two decades later, for being the mastermind behind who knows how many crimes…

I lifted the mug of beer to my lips and began drinking it all down. My father's friends appeared as if they wished they had simply kept their mouths shut. After I finished the drink, quite dizzily (though it was more from shock than alcohol), I reached into my pocket for money. Bailey refused the money and sent me on my way. As I stumbled out of the pub, I could hear the three men wish me good health and invitations for me to come back and see them.

Still dazed and upset, I began to head in the direction of the new address. My mind stumbled over the information I had been giving, each little piece of information. It was a never-ending cycle of thoughts in my head that made me even woozier. It had been a very big day for revelations—not good revelations. Just big ones. That hurt like a bitch. 

By the time I had entered the apartment building and stood in front of a small brown door, I was half-crazed. After this, I never wanted to be recognized for my father's features ever again. _Ever_ again. It made me sick to my stomach to wonder what kind of man my father really was.

_Black. I'm going to dye my hair black,_ I thought deliriously.

I knocked on the door.

~~

Author's notes:

Many, many confusing questions created for Vinny. And he thought he was finally getting some answers! Well, I hope you enjoyed this installment of the series. I always have fun writing from Vinny's perspective, though it takes an effort to force myself to be as arrogant as him. 

So! He's met Coram and Kimmy. He's even met Joren's mafia buddies! Anyone recognize the three characters I used? Bailey, Noack, and Gratz? 

Aha… and so little Faleron has some relatives in Tusaine, eh? More cameos, possibly? You'll see. And now Vinny gets to meet Julia! Well, that's what we're _hoping_ for…

Thanks for reading! Please review to tell me what you think!

Another unedited episode brought to you by:

Sulia Serafine ^.^


	11. Paranoid Android

The Gift

Episode 11: Paranoid Android

_By Sulia Serafine_

This is an ALTERNATE UNIVERSE fic. This is the sequel series to It Could Be Worse, which will end with season 4. NOTE: You can read it if you have not read ICBW. It's possible. You won't get the foreshadowing and the cameos, but you will, eventually. I'd explain them. Credit goes to Tamora Pierce. I'm broke, so you can't sue me. Any other copyrighted things that don't belong to me in here in fact belong to other very businesslike people. Could you believe that? I guess that's why I'm broke.

Warning: This episode is rated PG-13, just for a few curse words. This is Vinny, guys. Come _on_.

Author's note: Holy shiz-nitz, I haven't updated in a long time. School, rowing, and college scholarship applications have thoroughly beat me up, thrown me out the side of a speeding car, stopped, and backed up over my already maimed self. As is evident from my lack of grammatical parallelism in the previous sentence. I am currently supposed to be studying for quarter exams and the SAT II's for next Saturday, but I felt inspired (and a little ashamed of myself) when I read a review pleading for an update. 

And here it is. So! May I continue onward in my crusade, getting four hours of sleep per night, twelve hours of AP and IB classes, four hours a day of intense physical training (led by a coach who misses his Green Beret days), and enough scholarship deadlines to make me want to cry!

Enjoy the show, folks. Ha-cha-cha.

~~

It's strange how people can convince themselves that they're in control when they're anything but. They repeat the mantra in their heads until nothing else exists but the belief that everything is going to be okay. There's always that feeling that a million more complications will show up at the back door, but that's fine with them. They're in control. They've got their problems on a leash.

_Mine_ just happens to have some damn sharp teeth.

Bit through the leash, chomped down onto my pants leg, and dragged me to the door—that fateful and hateful door. Some in-control guy I turned out to be, huh?

"Hello?" a feminine voice answered. The door opened the slightest bit, but I could not see the woman behind it. The deadlock's chain rattled tremulously.

"Are you Julia Litcott?" I asked in a raspy voice.

There was a hesitation. Then, a blessed response. "Who wants to know?"

Somewhere between the 'hello' and the reply, my heart had dropped straight to my feet. I took a deep breath and clenched my fists at my side. Now or never.

"Vinny. Vinny Winston."

The reaction took me by surprise. The door slammed shut. I blinked, eyes wide with disbelief. I involuntarily stepped back and wondered if I had just blown the _only_ lead I had left. My brazenness overcame my shock and I knocked again, more loudly than before.

The door opened as far as the chain would let it. Now angry green-blue eyes glared at me from the shadow beyond. "Get out of here. I'm not falling for any of your pranks, you punk."

She moved to slam the door, but I stuck my hand in and forced it to stay open. 

"Lady, look at me," I pleaded, trying to sound sincere. Sincerity was still somewhat an alien concept to me; I was so accustomed to faking it. Now when I wanted it to be real, all I could do was supply a second rate actor's performance. What luck, huh? "I don't want to play any tricks on you. My name really is Vinny Winston."

There was defeat in her eyes. A heavy sigh. She chuckled mildly as she played with the deadlock chain. 

"At least you're blond this time. The last one didn't look a thing like him."

"Like who?" I pressed. I stifled my anticipation as she closed the door a bit to undo the deadlock and allow me in. I was vaguely aware of what I was supposed to feel. Years of searching finally led to this. Shouldn't I have been elated? I was going to get some answers! My _mother_ was standing just a couple of feet away. Yet, I felt very little joy. I was almost… furious at the anti-climatic sensation of it all. When she finally swung the door open, my eyes looked up at someone I had never truly expected to meet.

Here was the sun, hiding behind a rain cloud. 

Julia Litcott folded her arms across her chest. Her strawberry blonde hair was tied back messily in a bun and a few curly wisps of gold framed her face. She nodded her head to indicate that I was to go in. I couldn't help but count the lines at the corner of her eyes as I passed her. The disillusioned expression on her face didn't belong there.

So, she was a little moodier than I expected her to be. She probably had good reason. I waited as she closed the door and locked it, wary to go any further into the apartment. I felt like an intruder. I _was_ an intruder. How insensitive could I have been to come here and disrupt the fragile balance she had so carefully crafted? I always knew I was a selfish, disrespectful jerk.

Frowning slightly, I shoved my hands into my pockets and rocked back on my heels. Julia turned to me, her gaze sweeping up and down my form to take in all the details. She was wondering whether or not I was armed. That had to be it. I knew that look. I had been given that look ever since I was old enough to pass for fifteen. Teenagers these days! Hoodlums, all of them!

"Would you like something to drink?" she asked, leading the way to the couch. She gestured for me to sit down on the dilapidated cushions while she went to the kitchen.

"No… thanks," I added after a moment's hesitation. As it wasn't in my nature to give 'thanks,' I still felt as fake as an actor. Funny. Less than an hour ago, I had been basking in my skills as a liar and a con artist at the hospital. But I couldn't pretend with this one, could I? It wouldn't be right.

She came back with a glass of water for herself. The brightness of her eyes dimmed as she settled into the worn armchair across from me.  "Listen. I have to go take my shift at the diner soon. Whatever this is about, say your piece and make it quick."

I shifted uneasily. Discomfort and I are mortal enemies. Grr. "I, uh, met Coram."

A brief spark of recognition?

"Did you?" she murmured as she sipped delicately from her glass. 

"And Kimmy," I nodded. "I'm not sure if you remember them—"

"I do."

How cold. The doubtful frown translated into deeper suspicion.

"If you don't believe me, you can talk to them." 

A scowl cut across her features. "Then two more people can join in on the ruse. They wouldn't be the first."

I leaned forward, brow creased in concentration. I knew it. Because I couldn't show the emotion that she deserved, I was going to pay dearly for it. Disbelief is a crappy consolation prize. How could I make her believe? I've truly been arrogant to imagine all these years that she would greet me with open arms. "I meant it. I haven't come here to play tricks on you. My name is Vinny Winston. And I think you're my mother."

Julia squeezed her eyes shut and put down her glass on the coffee table. "I'm tired of hearing this. Young thugs without a dime claim to be related to him or friends with him, asking for money and a place to stay… A handful even claiming to be my son." She glared fiercely at me. "Do yourself a favor and just give up. I'm not giving you anything!"

The heart can only take so much.

"I don't want anything from you. Not like that," I protested quietly, feeling as if I didn't have a right to speak. There was no way I could… simply convince her I was her son, then take off again looking for Jack Winston. That would be cruel. And I was cruel enough as I was without that added notch to the stick. 

She seemed so much older than I had first felt her to be, back in the hospital when I had finally learned her name. And it made sense that she was. Whatever kind spirit had once dwelled here had been hardened by lonely years, moving from place to place and job to job. Had she clung to the hope that she would see my father again? Did she know where he was? Was he even _alive_?

I hated him. I cared naught for my parents and any parental love that I had been deprived of. But for _human decency_… For being able to reduce someone else as free and giving as the sun to a cold desolate moon… I hated him. Even more than I hated myself. 

"You look too much like him. It would be easier if you didn't," she whispered, gazing at me through half-lidded eyes.

"I'd always wondered. When I finally knew who you were, everyone always mentioned Jack, not you. And I wondered why."

She touched her cheek with her fingertips. Perhaps she was searching for her own face in mine. I knew she wouldn't find it. I knew because I was lost looking for myself in her. There was so much else, we both knew. Our common bond was not one of mother and child.

I was _his_ son. She had been _his_ lover. This, I knew without mental superpowers or prying questions. We were not connected the way we should have been. The chasm widened between us.

"What do you see when you look at me?" I asked.

Julia's eyelids fluttered, as if her breath had been stolen away. She lowered her hand to her chest and sighed. "I see him." She paused. "None of the others resembled him. But the way… that your eyes—it's him. All him."

I leaned back on the couch, rubbing my chin lacking the knowledge to do little else. I averted by eyes. I didn't want to resemble him. Not at all. Like him, I would have to leave her. Just like him. And that made it all the worse.

"The phone is going to ring," I muttered absently.

She narrowed her eyes at me, no doubt wondering what I was going on about. Before she could inquire, the phone began ringing from within the kitchen. She frowned and got up to answer it. Plucking the phone off its hook on the wall, she wrapped the long cord around her hand and stretched it as far as it would go to keep me in sight.

"Hello? …Oh, hi. It's good to hear from you—" she bit her lip. "I'm fine. I promise… yes, I have everything under control. No troubles."

I stood up, suddenly drawn to the collection of pictures on the wall. A dozen framed photographs were mounted to the wall in a less than orderly arrangement. Some, I assumed, were of her sister or a similar relation. Another of her as a child. We looked more alike as infants than we did as adults.

My body froze, however, in front of a small picture on the far right. I lifted it from the nail on the wall and peered at the image. The white haired man stared back at me. He looked slightly annoyed, as if standing still for the picture had been against his better judgment. The familiar aquamarine eyes threw me off guard. I breathed in sharply and turned to see my mother, still on the telephone.

I approached her, trying my best not to look angry. How could this be? How could that man be apart of _my_ mother's life? Yes, I was as possessive as an immature toddler who did not like to share his toys. So what? This was _my_ mother! I just found her! How could she have been connected to this man already? I felt violated somehow, as if my trust had been betrayed. I held up the picture for her to see.

"You're talking to him, aren't you? That's him on the phone," I accused in a low voice.

She covered the mouthpiece and glared at me. "Do you mind?"

I stifled a shout as I grabbed the phone from her and pressed it to my ear. Julia yelped in surprise, pressing herself against the opposite wall from me. I ignored her and concentrated my fury into the mouthpiece. "Who is this?"

A man sighed in annoyance from the other end. "Why do you ask when you know the answer?"

"Because I don't want you to be true." My voice came out in a hoarse whisper. I was almost whining to him, silently begging him to never have existed. That, of course, being a wish that could never be granted. Those eyes in the photograph laughed at me now. They called me 'child' over and over again in taunting tones. I nearly became inaudible when I spoke next. "Why here? Why her?"

I could imagine him brushing the lint off his shoulder. Typical. His cool attitude offended me, more or less because I was not that calm. If only he'd get angry or yell back! It would have allowed me to feel normal again, or at least balanced between my good and evil tendencies. He beat me in that department, too. A demon with a halo.

"Vincent, let me speak to your mother."

"How do you know my name?! I can't stand these questions anymore!"

Another sigh. I wanted to rip his throat out like a rabid dog and tear him to pieces. I glanced at my mother again, once more about to speak. And a split second later, my head felt like it was about to explode.

I leaned heavily against the wall. My hand was shaking. I _knew_. I knew everything I should never have known. Of all the things to foresee! Of all the cursed, damned revelations that I never wanted to have! A deep blue wave was crashing between my ears, the roar of imaginary surf that dissipated as I reconnected with the real world. I listened numbly as Julia began saying what I had envisioned split seconds before. What a stab in the back.

"Let me speak to Mr. Yukishiro."

"Let me speak to your mother, Vincent."

Have you ever wished you were blissfully ignorant?

I handed my mother the phone, dropped the photograph on the floor, and went to couch to collapse. Nothing mattered anymore. There was too much to ever make sense. That man. The very person who had offered me sanctuary in this hellish nightmare called reality. I wondered about those rumors. From Bailey, from Coram… what did they know anyway?

_"After a while, you stop wondering whether talk is true."_

My head dropped into my hands and I put all my effort into staying conscious. My head throbbed. My chest ached, as if a metallic claw had shot into my chest and ripped my heart out. I suppose there are worse things than death. In the background, Julia calmly hung up the phone and came back from the kitchen. She knelt to pick up the photograph. When she looked up, her eyes glistened with tears.

She knew.

I wasn't as pleased as I thought I'd be.

"I trust him, you know," she said, as if I had voiced my doubt. "He's taken care of me as if I was his own daughter. Maybe because he missed Jack, too." She choked back a sob. "I haven't spoken to Mr. Yukishiro in years, but I always get letters. For him to call now, as if he knew who was coming…"

"Mom?" I squeaked, testing the word out nervously.

She hugged the photograph to her body tightly. "He wouldn't lie to me. How can he tell by just hearing a voice? I don't know. There's a lot about him that never made any sense. But I believe him when… when he says…"

I should have gotten off the couch to comfort her. Should have. I felt as if I touched her, she would die. The most unholy plague flowed through my veins. To infect her would kill the last bit of humanity in me. 

"Mom," I repeated again, more confident in my voice.

She wiped the moist trail of tears from her cheeks and got up from the floor. On unsteady legs, almost like a newborn faun, she stumbled to my side and slowly put her arms about me.

I would be the death of her. And that wasn't an exaggeration. Hugging. Personal contact. I did not like it at all, but what else could I do? This was my sobbing mother. I'm a bastard for wanting to flinch away.

And now that I think about it, I'm a bastard in both senses of the word.

"I have so many questions," she murmured.

"So do I," I replied.

She smoothed down the shoulder of my shirt where her tears had soaked in. A smile, for my sake, I suppose. I forced myself to put an arm around her as well. She smelled like snow and apples, if that was possible. I could not recall ever noticing a female's scent before. How like the offspring to seek out a way to identify its mother.

I felt like such a fake.

"You've been well? Where have you been all this time?" She reached for my face and cupped my cheek with a soft hand. "You're so handsome. I bet you have a girlfriend, right?"

I blushed. Normally, I would have made an arrogant remark about my roguishly debonair self, but it wasn't necessary here. She would not react differently either way. She was my mother. And she was proud of me.

"I was in… a children's hospital," I told her gently. It technically wasn't a lie. I wouldn't dream of hurting her by describing Styx. That would be crueler than simply _pretending_ to be her son.

"They helped you? When you were a baby, something went wrong. It was all so strange and—and they took you away!" The last part came out rushed, and I winced upon hearing it. 

Again, with the technically-not-lying method. "I ran away from the hospital. They helped me, but they wouldn't answer my questions."

The corner of her mouth twitched. She was trying not to frown—again for my sake? "About me? Did they tell you who I was?"

"No. I ran away to find out who you and Dad were. But also…"

"Yes?"

Oh boy. This was going to be hard to explain. Better start off simple and hope you she gets the implications later. I gestured in the direction of the phone. "Do you remember how I predicted the phone call?"

She nodded. 

"That's part of it. I also…" I wasn't sure how to tell her about my hyperactive resilience. What would I do? Cut my hand with a knife and let her stare at it for two hours? "Do you know why I was 'sick' as a baby? What caused it?"

Julia frowned. "No. I even researched my family's medical history. There was nothing. What does that have to do with the phone?"

I loosened my embrace. _Here goes…_ "I can predict things sometimes. Like, a fortuneteller or whatever you want to call it. A clairvoyant. And… I can heal very fast." I stopped. "Is this too much? I can understand if you don't believe me."

She shook her head. Perhaps it was in a mother's capacity to believe that which no one else will. Strange and comforting, that thought. "And you think that your father would have the answers?"

"Would you know if he would?"

Her silence discouraged me from continuing. So, I was at another dead end. She patted the back of my hand. Her attempts to reassure me were useless. I could not feel anything. I felt ashamed of that. And at least I had shame, if not any other emotion. If I could feel shame, that meant _some_ part of me was halfway decent.

"I haven't seen him in a long time. I honestly wouldn't know if he was alive or living nearby. We didn't stay together and by the time I knew I was pregnant, I couldn't find him."

"But you still love him?"

What in the name of all that's holy possessed me to ask _that_?

She smiled ruefully. "Not the way you would hope."

"I don't hope for anything," I told her, being perfectly honest.

She squeezed my hand. I had a feeling it was more for her benefit than for my own. My arm was starting to cramp around her, so I gently withdrew and cleared my throat. My mother also dropped her arms.

"It's okay. We can take our time."

I bit the inside of my cheek. Time! The one thing we didn't have. The door was calling to me. It warned me that if I stayed any longer, I would lose that edge about me that warded away normalcy and niceness. I need to get out of here. Quick. Now. Before the bomb detonates. "What about Yukishiro? Would he know where Dad is?"

"I don't know. Is it that important for you to find him?"

"I think he can answer my questions. And I need those answers." I stood up. "Where can I find him?"

She shrugged helplessly. Even if she had known, perhaps she would have withheld the information just to prevent me from leaving. Some mothers would do that. Baby birds leaving the nest, of course. But it had been far too long a time since I had been a baby bird.

The phone rang again. The back of my head began to itch. Not a good sign. I walked to the phone and answered it irritably. It was exactly who I expected it to be. No one else would have such creepy timing.

"What?" I scowled into the mouthpiece.

"I'll meet you at the front of the Kingdom Hospital."

I frowned. "Have you been following me? From city to city?"

He laughed. I gripped the phone tightly out of anger. Eventually, he ceased and resumed his calm and soothing tone. "Just meet me there."

The dial tone was loud in my ear. I slammed the phone down on the hook, startling my mother. Her hand flew to her chest, right over her heart. Amazing, how I haven't given the poor woman a heart attack yet. I might have, though, given another hour or two.

"Is everything okay?"

"Peachy," I mumbled. I remembered whom I was talking to and thought to offer an apology. It never happened. I swallowed up the words and impatiently made gestures toward the outside of the window. "I need to go the hospital to meet him. He's going to meet me there."

Her face crumpled. "You're leaving?"

Only women can make you feel that bad about going _anywhere_, I decided. My hand nervously rubbed the back of my neck. There was the issue again. I was leaving. Just like him. Like father, like son they say. I bet she hated that phrase right then. She couldn't handle it anymore. Having found me again after so many years, and then… 

"I'll come back," I told her. "I'll visit, I promise."

The sad part was that I didn't know whether I was lying or not. No bright flash of inspiration to tell me the future of this particular detail. I headed toward the door, trying not to make eye contact. Guilt! The dirtiest of human emotions, the bane of my existence. It had changed somewhere along the way. I had convinced myself that I wouldn't feel anything for my parents, but here it was.

But I felt _shame_ for thinking that. Once more, not the right emotion. Not happiness or elation. I felt hers, though. She was overjoyed to have found me, but despairing that I had to set out once more. It made me a little sick inside, just the way I had been when I met Cleon. Except, I couldn't be as sad as her. There was some barrier between us that was stronger than I could have imagined. It was that common bond again. Through him, my father, not each other. 

"No man is an island," the quote goes. Screw whoever said that. 

She got up from the couch and went to the door to let me out. My mother was trying her best to maintain her composure. Alas, it was too difficult. I spied a tear or two hanging from the tips of her eyelashes.

I am a horrible son. Should have died in the womb.

"Take care," she said gently, resting a hand on my shoulder. I was too tall for her, so she had to go up on her tiptoes to kiss me on the cheek. The warmth of her lips lingered on my face. Being unaccustomed to signs of affection, I had to force myself from wiping it away.

Definitely shouldn't have been born.

"I'll be back," I reassured her.

She nodded. "I know."

I left my mother with emptiness quite similar to that of a robot or an android. Why hadn't I connected to her like I had with Cleon? Wasn't it one of my new developing powers to have empathy wired into my brain and nervous system?

Maybe it was just me. My fault. Me, the freak.

The walk back to the hospital was not long enough. I had hoped to calm down and completely steel myself before I reached the hospital. That despicable man would be there, that intruder. I was tired of his mystery. The answers were hidden up his sleeve, just the way crafty cheats do it in poker. The hands are quicker than the eye, apparently.

A few questions answered: I am the son of Julia Litcott and Jack Winston.  My mother is not the cause for my abnormal traits. So it all lies on the head of my father, gone MIA. Don't mind me. I was thinking of going MIA, myself. Must be _really_ something. Yeah. I bet.

The hospital never looked so oppressive. The sky had darkened since I had entered my mother's apartment building. Almost like it was going to rain and wash away all the guilt I felt. A wind blew across my skin, causing the tiny hairs on my arms to rise. Regrettably, my sweatshirt was in the car. 

Maybe I wouldn't see that car again. What an unexpected thought.

I sat down on a bench just outside the automatic sliding doors of the main entrance. It would be bad to be seen without scrubs on by the intern again. I wasn't willing to do an encore performance. That guy had annoyed the hell out of me.

I leaned back and closed my eyes. Only a minute until _he_ arrived. I could sense it, without pain this time. What a way to live, eh? Knowing, waiting, and unwilling to change the future. I glanced at the clock on my pager. Any second. _Tick freaking tock._

"Hungry?" he asked as he sat down a moment later. I opened my eyes, pretending not to have been taken by surprise. I had expected him, yet his mere entrance had sent that same old jolt, despite my body's familiarity with repressing jerky movements like that. I took a deep breath to calm myself. He held a brown paper bag in his hand. A peace offering? Or an arsenic ever-after?

My stomach defeated my paranoia and I took the bag form him. There was a fresh turkey sandwich wrapped in plastic. I bit into it, chewing slowly so I would have time to observe my guest. He seemed more human now. Less like the ethereal ghost that had met me outside Ansil's house, more tangible than that. Learning his name had weakened the spell.

But mind you, I was still mesmerized.

Shaded spectacles perched on his straight, aristocratic nose. His aquamarine eyes were almond shaped, an indication of Eastern blood.  His pale skin almost glowed. It didn't make any sense. According to the stories I'd heard, he should have looked far older. Besides the white hair, he looked quite young. A yuppie preparing for a hard day at the office.

"Enjoying?"

I nodded. Speak with my mouth full? I have more class than that. After I finished, I balled up the brown bag and threw it into the nearest trashcan.

"Nice throw."

"Thanks," I replied. Thanks. I had said _thanks_ to someone. I mentally scolded myself. Of all the people to show any sort of smugness to, he was not one I preferred. I rubbed my hands together. "Do you have any information for me?"

Yukishiro pretended to inspect his cufflinks. "It depends. Do you still want it? My offer from the train still stands."

Leaving with him. Sanctuary. I glared at him. "I believe you told me I wasn't ready."

He shrugged. "You are now."

There was nothing I could say after that. Nothing that would smooth over the complications in this decision. I turned away and coughed gently into my fist. 

"You might think about heading toward Irontown. I heard it's beautiful this time of year," he suggested airily.

"Really?" I replied sarcastically.

Yukishiro nodded. "I'd prefer you go with me, instead, but I know you have a will of your own." He paused. "Your safety is at risk in this place. There are certain boundaries I have sworn never to cross. If something happens, I can't rescue you. I want you to remember that."

Did I _look_ like a damsel in distress?

The white haired man smiled at me. At first, I felt belittled. Then, I recognized the genuine sympathy he wished to show me. The hardness of his gaze had disappeared. More tangible, indeed. He was trying. And I felt it. I smiled as well, new warmth flowing through me despite the chilling breeze. I had not felt it with my mother, and not quite so much with Cleon, but here was real warmth. 

"If you've known all this time," I began, more amiably than before. "Why haven't you told her?"

"She wasn't _the one_, Vincent."

"Don't call me that," I whispered.

"As you wish."

I took a deep shuddering breath and drew my arms around me. It was somewhat obvious now. This man beside me. I shook my head regretfully. How ironic.

"You have my answers." A fact.

"Yes," he admitted. "But you don't want to hear it from me, do you?"

"No. Not from you." _Never, ever, you destroyer of dreams._

He stood up and bowed his head. "Tell him I send my greetings."

I nodded, wordlessly bidding my farewell. My gaze was down turned as he departed, just in case I was tempted to follow him. There went my salvation. What an odd manifestation of a guardian angel. Halo and horns make a strange combination.

It wasn't too long before Yvenne and Faleron arrived to pick me up. They were in good spirits. Obviously, the house servants had greeted them with food and laundry services. I peered down at myself. I needed a good shower after even touching the _stool_ in Bailey's Pub.

They went on for a few minutes about how nice Faleron's parents' home was and how better they felt. The car even looked as if someone had attended to it. Washed windows and everything. Eventually, they quieted down so as to finally observe how I was doing. They'd been too distracted beforehand to notice my solemnity.

"Is something wrong?" Yvenne asked.

I shook my head. "No. I'm fine."

"How was your friend? The one you came to visit?" Faleron asked.

The lie was waiting on my tongue. But for some reason, I couldn't bring myself to spit it out. I spread my arms across the back of the bench and lazily smirked at both of them. The defense mechanism of kings.

"What?" she predictably asked, glancing about her to see what I was so amused about. At least I could still get a rise out of her.

My amusement faded. A flash in my mind showed me that I was yet to have one more visitor at this bench. I hastily stood up and moved past my companions. My eyes scanned the crowds walking the sidewalks and street walk crosses.

"Coram!" my mother called. She elbowed past a couple of female shoppers toting numerous bags and jogged up to me in what must have been her waitress uniform. The starched pink cotton stuck out like a sore thumb.

"Vinny, Mom," I reminded her absently. I blushed furiously and hastened my pace to meet her. I angled my body to block her from view of the people behind me. Was this what it felt like to be embarrassed of your parent? This was the sort of thing pre-teens felt when a mother in a minivan dropped them off at school. How could I have been thrown that far back into time?

"I'm on break at the diner. I was hoping you would still be here."

I sighed. "Mom—"

She lifted her hand to stop me. "I just wanted you to have something. I thought I had lost it, but I searched my drawers again and here it is." She reached into her apron pocket. "I saw him again a few years after he first disappeared. We kept in touch on and off again for a couple of years. After I begged him enough times, he sent me this, and we haven't been in touch since."

I looked down at her closed fist. She held a folded photograph that I had no desire to see. _This is a low,_ I thought. _I can never go back to thinking anything good at all about this man._ My nostrils flared. "He was ashamed of you, then?"

Her expression fell. "No. No, not that, Vinny. I told him about you. He felt guilty about never… knowing about you. And that… you were taken away before he could ever see you—I suppose he was always reminded of that loss every time he saw me. It hurt him to see me and to be reminded of you. It has nothing to do with shame."

"Vince?" Yvenne called.

"Hi!" Faleron chirped, peering from behind my leg. He clutched my pants so as to ensure my function as a body shield. Kids.

Julia beamed down at him. "Hi. What's your name?"

"I'm Faleron. This is Yvenne. Are you friends with Vinny?"

"I'm his mother," she replied. How casually she does it! Just as if she were asking for a book of stamps at the grocery counter! She reached out and ruffled his hair. Perhaps she had always yearned to play with a child's hair like that, having missed her opportunity with me.

Yvenne gaped at her, then at me. The leading sign of my future verbal torture.  She gritted her teeth in a forced smile while she spoke. "Oh really? Vinny, you didn't tell us that your mother lived here!"

My mother chuckled. "To tell the truth, we just met for the first time today."

Both my companions were shocked into silence. I sheepishly stuck my hands in my pockets and exhaled deeply. The situation was too personal. I was too used to seeming like a complete loner—a hustler, a cheat… I could live with being that. But this? Yes, I was embarrassed.

My mother hugged me again (affection in front of my friends! Mortifying!) and placed the folded photograph in my hand. She leaned close and whispered, "Be safe."

"Mom, I—"

"You don't have to look at it now. See you soon."

She kissed me on the cheek, turned heel, and walked away. I watched her again with the same emptiness as before. I put the picture in my pocket and whirled around to face my companions. Time to face the music.

Momma's Boys of the World, unite!

~~

Author's notes: Hope you enjoyed that episode! I had a lot of difficulty writing it. I'm so out of tune with writing anything but really boring essays. *sigh* TWO months. Well, more than two months. Eep. That's a long time to go on vacation. Except… it wasn't really a vacation… 

Anyway, the first 45 days of school are over. I'm headed into the second quarter with a switch in teachers and a new torture device. I'm also headed straight into racing season. My next four weekends each find me in a different city/state/time zone so I'll have a hard enough time trying to make-up school work let alone work on fanfiction. I'll really try, though! I miss you guys!

Thanks to the loyal reviewers and fans who get on my back about updating! Without you, my butt would still be glued to calculus. 

And thanks to any future emails or reviews! Your opinion means the world!

-Sulia Serafine


	12. Here I Am

The Gift

Episode 12: Here I am

_By Sulia Serafine_

This is an ALTERNATE UNIVERSE fic. This is the sequel series to It Could Be Worse, which will end with season 4. NOTE: You can read it if you have not read ICBW. It's possible. You won't get the foreshadowing and the cameos, but you will, eventually. I'd explain them. Credit goes to Tamora Pierce. I'm broke, so you can't sue me. Any other copyrighted things that don't belong to me in here in fact belong to other very businesslike people. Could you believe that? I guess that's why I'm broke.

Warning: This episode is rated R, for _one_ scene in which a character totally loses it. 

Author's note: I can't believe how much I missed writing in the first person. I'm sick and tired of school. Coming out of winter vacation has only made me realize how much I want _out_. Anyway, hope you enjoy the episode! It's a different change in pace, you'll see. Hope you like it anyway. 

*yawn*

Can I graduate now? Someone? Please?

~~

There is a time in every man's life when he realizes that despite all tragedy, there is a ray of light at the end of the tunnel. No matter all the strife and the torture that he's had to endure along the way… there is still a wonderful, brilliant, stupendous, and (dare I say it) _spectacular _reason to go on living. However, now was not that time.

"You lying sack of shit!"

No. Definitely not that time.

Yvenne had the front of my shirt in her fists, shaking me back and forth as if I were an uncooperative vending machine who'd stolen her money. (I'd seen her do it once before. Man! If I thought she looked scary _then_…) I didn't fight back. What good would that do? It's not like I could avoid her. We were traveling companions, after all. I'd have to face her sooner or later. So on the plus side, it was good that I was doing it now.  I could get this over with.

"So you've been spending this entire trip slinking away from us so you could search for your parents? And what made you think that you couldn't trust us to help you? Huh? I thought we were all _friends_, Vince! Isn't that what we _are_, Vince?"

"Um…" I began. Maybe sooner than later wasn't such a good idea after all.

"Vinny, could you show me where the bathroom is? I really have to go!" Faleron interrupted, tugging on my shirt. I looked down at him, a smile spreading across my face. At once, I shook Yvenne's grip from me and took the boy's hand in mine.

"We'll continue this conversation when we get back," I told her with a horribly happy grin and rushed away with Faleron toward the hospital doors. The slightly cooler air inside the building had me breathing in deeply, never mind the antiseptic smell. I looked down on my little partner. I had to hand it to the kid. He knew how to handle things. Every time I was in a tight spot, I could depend on the little dweeb to bail me out. How wonderful is that?

We rounded a corner and stopped in front of the men's room. I released his hand and leaned against the wall.

"Thanks, squirt. Now take your time. I need a few minutes to come up with something to say to Miss Attitude. If I don't come up with something, the trip up to Irontown is going to be hell."

The boy nodded. "You owe me for this."

_Me? Owe_ him? _He is such a little punk!_

"Ice cream will do," he quipped.

"Fine, fine," I replied, rolling my eyes. "Right after you get out of here, I'll go take you for some ice cream."

"Yvenne, too?"

_You're kidding me. Oh well, I suppose it couldn't hurt to suck up just a little bit at this point._ "Sure. Yvenne, too." 

The boy started to push the bathroom door open. Just as he did, the door lightly hit a person who had been about to swing the door open. The man paused and stepped back. Faleron murmured an apology and went inside. 

"Ah. We meet again!" Ansil exclaimed as he let Faleron pass him. He came through the doorway and stopped in front of me with his arms folded across his chest. Boy, am I sick of seeing that damn face. I wonder if planted a tracer on me the first time we bumped into each other? I wouldn't put it past him for doing it. They're all alike, those do-gooders. Feh. 

I immediately recoiled at the very first word that came out of his mouth. I walked away a couple of steps, turning my head away to ground my teeth in annoyance. "Yeah. How unfortunate."

With my back still turned to him, he continued to speak. "I was wondering when I'd see you again, young Vincent."

"Who cares?" I snapped. "I'm not on your turf, nor am I wreaking havoc so I don't know why you would want to see me again." I rolled my eyes and muttered, "Unless you like to molest boys."

The detective laughed. "Ha! Don't you have a disrespectful little mouth on you! Someone ought to teach you some manners, kid."

His voice had suddenly changed its tone. It wasn't scary. But it was almost… warning. I frowned, but still refused to face him. I quickly considered my options. Could I run? No, I had to wait for Faleron. Besides, the damn man would follow me. And even worse, he could follow me outside and run into Yvenne. If the two of them met, I had a feeling it would be even more disaster for me. Explain my mother _and_ a cop to Yvenne? Hell would have to freeze over first.

"Vinny, I've been meaning to talk to you about something."

A bewildering tingle raced up the back of my legs and straight through my spine. I swallowed convulsively. "Yeah? About what?"

"Going home."

My eyes widened instantly. I began to turn around. But before I could move an inch, there was a lightning bolt of pain that jolted me in the back. I didn't even have time to cry out before my eyes fluttered closed and I slumped to the ground. Everything went black.

~~

The nerve of that guy! Vinny had nothing good coming to him if he thought he could hide something as important as that from us this entire time. I ought to clobber him for it! It's not like he would have to go far for medical help. We _are_ at the hospital. I'm not an inconsiderate person. I'd make sure he would get treatment. Faleron could drag him inside while I flirted with a nice young doctor who wouldn't patronize me like what's-his-face Blondie.

I finally took a deep breath and sat down on the bench. Crossing one leg over another, I impatiently waited for my two traveling companions to exit. They kept me waiting for a long time. Actually, my anger had just started to subside when a familiar mop of deep black hair on a short body exited the hospital and headed toward me.

"Hey, Fal," I greeted calmly. I had no reason to argue with the kid. His good behavior sometimes bothered me. He never did anything wrong, which is kind of weird for a kid now that I think about it. Even the best of kids does something wrong every now and then. It's in children's natures to mess around, if you ask me. 

Faleron looked around. "Where's Vinny?"

I raised one eyebrow questioningly. "Why would he be out here? He went inside with you to avoid me."

"When I came out of the bathroom, he was gone. I thought he went back outside to apologize to you."

_Apologize? To me? Vinny?_

I shook my head. "Guess again. Hmm. Maybe he went out the back way to avoid me." I growled. "The good-for-nothin' is probably hiding out."

"No, he wouldn't have done that," Faleron protested. "He promised to take us out for ice cream as soon as I was out of the bathroom. 

Sometimes little boys can be so naive. I uncrossed my legs and leaned forward. "I hate to tell you this, Fal, but Vinny isn't exactly a man of honor. I wouldn't rely on him to keep his promises."

Surprisingly, he fixed me with an accusing gaze. "Just because he breaks promises to you doesn't mean he breaks promises to me. He's never broken a promise to me. He promised to take care of me! And he is!"

My eyes instantly widened and I sat back, completely shocked. Could it be? Was Faleron right? I closed my mouth, having nothing else good to say. Maybe it was true. I checked my memory for times when the boy had been disappointed. I found nothing to my liking. I sighed and let my eyes wander to my shoes. Maybe the whole reason I was always bitter toward Vinny was because he disappointed _me_ in his promises. 

His eyes had promised me something when I first looked into them. Back in Carthak, I'd seen something. I could have sworn it had been a promise for something… something more. He'd broken that promise when he rejected me. In fact, that was the only promise he'd ever broken. He'd made me angry plenty of times, but had Vinny ever…

No. He had never told me anything and contradicted himself. Vinny always acted as he said he would: as an arrogant asshole. 

Looking back up at Faleron, I knew that wasn't true for everyone else. I reached forward and rubbed the boy's arm affectionately, smiling a little. He treated Faleron like his kid brother. Sometimes, even like a son. Maybe it was a guy thing. Maybe it was because Faleron was a child and so much easier to get along with than me.

I made things awkward. Just me.

_I'm gonna end up as a spinster. A spinster with a dozen cats._

"He would have been waiting for you," I said at last. "Something must have happened to him."

"Do you think he's okay?"

"I hope so." _For your sake._

We went back inside the hospital and looked around the first floor. A few nurses shooed us out of places we had inadvertently trespassed. We even asked the woman at the front desk to make a general announcement for Vinny to return to the entrance. We waited fifteen minutes, but he never came.

Thinking perhaps he was waiting for us at the car, we hurried outside only to find it as empty as we had left it. It was difficult deciding whether we should leave for the ice cream shop. There was always a chance he had gone ahead of us to make it a surprise. He was an incredibly selfish guy at times, but he could be sweet when he wanted to be. He really could be. It wouldn't be impossible for him to have huge sundaes waiting for us by the time we got there.

We arrived at the nearest ice cream shop, the one that Vinny would predictably have gone to. There was no blond young man to be found. Faleron and I leaned against the car and looked at each other worriedly.

"Maybe a cop picked him up," Faleron suggested. "You know how he pickpockets. Maybe the DJPF saw him and followed him. They could have arrested him!"

The next twenty minutes found us inside a phone booth, calling the police station and inquiring about any young men that had been taken into custody. None matched his description. I hung up the phone angrily and pinched the bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefinger.

"We'll check back in at the police station again in an hour, if he's still missing by then," I muttered, impulsively drumming my fingers against the side of the phone booth.

I was startled to admit it, but I was terrified. Vinny wouldn't have disappeared on his own. He had no reason to! And as independent as he'd always been, I knew he could hold himself up in a fight and could slip away from the best of them, if need be. 

When a woman in a pink dress walked past us, it dawned on me the one other place he could have gone. We rushed out of the phone booth and began soliciting people on the sidewalk for a diner where the waitresses dressed in pink. If there was one other place, or in this case, person, in Tusaine that Vinny could have gone to, it was his mother.

At last, someone told us of a small place three blocks from where we were that had waitresses in pink. The woman was completely shocked when we hugged her and thanked her profusely. We ran at breakneck speed to our car and drove away at an equally dangerous rate. 

While we drove the short distance, I was tempted to think about the time Vinny had left us while we were in the science museum. He'd boarded a train and come right back at the next stop. Sure, I'd been absolutely furious with him. Not only had he tried to ditch us, but he'd punched a hole through the convertible roof of our car. Even as he kindly bought Faleron ice cream and even as it was made clear that he'd come _back_ when he could have kept on going—I didn't see that. I only saw my temper and the palm of my hand coming in contact with his cheek.

Vinny had come back that time. And it was for that reason that I knew that he wouldn't have left this time either. Not intentionally. Not to hurt us. He would be attacked by another stab of conscience like he had been that day on the train. He would come back. He would!

We pulled into a parking lot where there were too many potholes. As soon as we got out of the car, we nearly ran for the door. At once, we could see several women dressed in pink waitresses uniforms with white (or nearly white) aprons tied on.

I spotted the same strawberry blonde woman from in front of the hospital somewhere in the back of the diner. I made my way quickly around the tables, swiftly weaving in and out between people until I was within range.

"Hey! Miss… Vinny's Mom! Excuse me!"

The woman looked up. She looked stunned, but she smiled anyway. She had a very beautiful smile. "Oh! Yvenne, wasn't it? Hello!"

"Hi, ma'am," I greeted, not sure what else to call her.

"Please, call me Julia." She indicated her nametag. _Her nametag._ _Duh._

Faleron caught up with me. As soon as she saw him, she 'awwed' and bent down to give Faleron a kiss on the forehead. He beamed up at her appreciatively.

"Uh, I hate to interrupt you here at work," I apologized. "But have you seen Vinny? Did he come to see you?"

Julia frowned. "No. I haven't been here too long at all. The last time I saw him was with you two in front of the hospital." She gasped. "Did something happen? Is he alright?"

I shrugged helplessly. "We don't know. He was supposed to be waiting for Fal outside the men's room, but he disappeared. We've looked everywhere. It's not like him to take off like this. Something must have forced him to leave."

His mother appeared completely distraught by what I was saying. She had one hand over her mouth and the other over her heart. I wouldn't blame the woman. Julia had just been reunited with her son after seventeen years. They'd never met, Vinny had told us. They hadn't found each other until _today_.

When I thought about that, it made me miss my own mother. Truth be told, my mother had divorced my father when I was ten. She wanted to be young again, and cared very little about me. She'd left my father, who tried to be a good parent to me for several years before giving up and becoming a slob. Pops wasn't a bad man. Just not a family man. The fact that I wasn't a great daughter either had led him to kicking me out after I dropped out during my senior year in high school.

I use to lie about my parents. Lie about graduating. Lie about sports teams and everything else. But I didn't do that much anymore. I hated it when Vinny lied. I hated it worse when he persuaded Faleron to lie. But standing here with his trembling mother, I almost wished she were lying about not knowing where Vinny was. 

_Vinny Winston! Don't you see that we need you, you son of a bitch?_

"Is there any place where Vinny could have gone? Or some place where someone might recognize him as your son?"

Julia was crestfallen. "No. I've severed all my ties with people who knew me in this city. There's no one—oh!"

"What?" I cried. "What is it?"

She clutched my arm tightly. "Mr. Yukishiro! He called and met with Vinny in front of the hospital. That's how I knew to find him there earlier."

"Who's Mr. Yukishiro?" Faleron inquired.

"A very nice man," Julia replied. "When I first gave birth to Vinny and he was sick—I didn't have any money to pay for the tests, but Mr. Yukishiro was a family friend and he paid for it all. When times are tough, Mr. Yukishiro has always sent a little money to help me along."

"Great! Where do we find this guy?"

Julia's happy expression faltered. "You don't."

"What do you mean we don't?" I demanded.

She sighed. "He doesn't live in the city anymore. I was surprised he came back to Tusaine today to see Vinny. You can't ask around for him either. Mr. Yukishiro used to be of… ill repute, you could say, when he used to live around here. It was the reason he had to leave."

Faleron and I exchanged hopeless looks. Julia shook her head sadly and wiped her hands on her apron.

"I'm sorry. I wish I could help you more. I only want my son to be safe and happy, wherever he goes—" she began.

"Julia! Get back to work!" the greasy cook from behind the counter yelled.

Julia glared in his direction before turning back to us. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," I told her. "We'll let you know if anything comes up."

"Take care!" she called to us as we left the diner. I wish I'd had a mother like her. Some people were meant to be parents. The way that woman presented herself to children, the way she looked at her son even years after his childhood had left him, spoke to me. I would have enjoyed learning how to grow up into a young lady under this woman's guidance. I wished in some alternate universe, she _was_ my mother.

But that's getting off track. She is Vinny's mother. And Vinny is gone.

So there we have it. We had no idea where to go. I still don't believe it happened so quickly. In so short a time, our dear friend had vanished into thin air.

We returned to the front of the hospital in hopes that Vinny had returned there. There was no sign of him. I must admit, I was really starting to think that maybe he had worked up the nerve to leave us for good.

But then I glanced down at Faleron's face. I knew I was wrong.

Sighing, I ran my hand through my hair. "Okay, squirt. Let's head down to the DJPF station and see if he hasn't been brought there yet. Do you know the way?"

"Of course!"

We drove to the station. The radio was broken and neither of us felt like talking, so it was an uncomfortable silence all the way there. I started to think about how life would be without the good for nothin' jerk. I mean, the three of us were going to part ways anyway. I was going to settle down in Port Legann. Faleron would finally go back to school. And Vinny… he would have gone wherever the wind took him, I guess.

We would have said goodbye sooner or later. That idea scared me. After I had made my plans to find a place in Port Legann, it still never hit me that I would have to get used to not seeing either of my friends again. I doubted Faleron's parents would ever let him out of their sight whenever he returned. And Vinny isn't the type of person that keeps in touch.

I missed him already. I thought to myself, it's too early to miss him. We'll find him and we'll make it last.

But the truth was, it wouldn't last and I would miss him no matter what happened. The way those slim, graceful fingers—like an artist's or something—flipped a coin in the air. The way he held the steering wheel with one hand while sticking his elbow out the window. He had a way of grinning, lazily, that just made him look so suave and laidback—almost like he knew something you didn't and there was no way in hell he was going to condescend to tell you.

I hate his pride. I hate his arrogance. But it's never hurt me. Annoyed yes, but that's not so bad. To tell the truth, I'd started to look forward to our arguments. Life was boring without them. I'm sure that's not healthy, but I don't really care. Realizing how petty our fights were made me happier to be alive, every day.

When we reached the station, we made it as far as the front desk before the worst thing in the entire world happened.

"Faleron?" a man called. He spilled his cup of coffee as he hastily set it down and practically leapt over the front desk to get to the boy. Faleron's eyes widened. His face paled. When I saw how stiff the boy had become, I knew we were in for it.

I frowned and clenched my fists. "Fal—"

"H-hi, Uncle Neal," Faleron stammered. He gulped and hunched his shoulders. "Nice to see ya."

The officer, Neal I presume, fixed him with a stern look and set both hands on Faleron's shoulders, gently shaking him. His face was turning pink, most likely from restrained anger. "Do you know how worried you've made your parents? And here you are, traipsing around the city—_this_ close from home… and you don't stop to think how many people you've upset?"

"I didn't mean to!" Faleron cried. He pouted. "Besides, Uncle Cleon found me. I talked to him and he talked to my friends and he said it was okay!"

Neal stood straight up. He scowled. "His permission amounts to squat, Faleron, and you know it!" He tapped the side of his head. "He hasn't been right in the head since he came back from the mountains… and… and you knew it! Your parents told you as much, I'm sure. And if they hadn't, the fact that they don't let him visit you whenever he's in town should say as much!"

"That's not true! Uncle Cleon is—" Faleron protested, his voice cracking with emotion.

"Stop yelling at the kid!" I shouted, glaring at the man. "He didn't mean any harm! He just wanted to escape his stupid school vacation because he…" I glanced at Faleron fleetingly. "He was miserable. Spending holidays with his class instead of with his family. If you knew how sensitive he was, you wouldn't be singing the same tune!"

The man's gaze landed on me. His jaw was set grimly. He folded his arms across his chest. "And who are you? The irresponsible adult who's also to blame for all this commotion?"

"To blame?! Listen, pal! You know nothing!"

He shook his head slowly. "I know enough. He needs to go home. Spending weeks on end with absolute strangers—I don't care how nice you really are—is not right." He took Faleron by the hand. "Come on. I'm calling your parents."

It occurred to me that this man was right. Vinny and I had been irresponsible and it had been a completely bad idea to let a young boy hang around us without so much as asking his parents' permission. I had laid the idea to rest when we'd run into Cleon Kennan and received his approval. But now that they were actually taking Faleron away from me (the sight of tears dripping down his cheeks broke my heart right in half) I couldn't let it happen. Not yet.

"Let go of him!" I threw myself at the officer, tugging hard on his arm. I wasn't thinking. No. All I could focus on was freeing my friend and escaping the place. With the greatest of ease, Neal jerked me forward, and twisted my arm behind my back. It felt like he was going to twist my arm out of my socket! I gritted my teeth in pain.

Faleron stood mute, tears still running down his cheeks. He looked at me pitifully. And I knew that he thought it was all his fault. I didn't care whose fault it was. We'd just lost Vinny. I wasn't about to lose Faleron so soon.

I don't want to live without either of them.

~~

I curled up in the corner of my holding cell. By some miracle of the gods, no one else was in the cell with me—no drunkards or lunatics like I'd imagined. I was cold. I refused to touch the single bed they had, for fear of what had slept there before. Instead, I leaned against the wall, knees tucked toward my chest. I wondered what Faleron was doing.

His parents were probably on their way back to Tusaine that very second. Faleron would be fussed over by the family servants, all who would be pinching themselves for buying into that babysitter lie earlier that day. It's not my fault that they had believed us. And they had seen how well Faleron had been! 

No. Now the head butler or whatever knew the truth and would scold Faleron for lying and worrying his parents half to death (who were at this very instant, probably arguing with themselves on how they could have spawned such a deceptive child). And Faleron would be so exhausted from the day's traumatic events that he would not offer any more words of protest. He would only wish to be left alone, to weep, to mourn the loss of two very loyal friends.

Directly after Neal had restrained me and tossed me into a holding cell, I heard him get on the COMscreen with Cleon Kennan. I could not see the screen. I didn't need to. The officer yelled at the redhead very loudly. With familiarity. By the way they addressed each other and spoke of Faleron's parents, I knew that they had long been involved with the Jasson family. Perhaps Neal and Cleon had even been around during Faleron's birth.

Cleon did not put up much of a fight. Like Faleron, he seemed to take the scolding like he believed he deserved it. The redhead admitted that he'd been thinking of other things when he'd given Faleron permission to continue traveling with Vinny and me. The redhead spoke in low tones. His voice had always seemed depressing to me. But I'm sure… I'm sure he wasn't always like that. A face like his wasn't fit for melancholy.

Neal finally ended the conversation, still very bothered by the fact that his friend had seen Faleron and had perpetuated the deception. Whatever that meant. He came back to my holding cell and curtly informed me that I was to stay until he knew what to do with me. My car was being impounded and my stuff locked with criminal evidence.

Had this been a different situation, I would have been screaming my head off. I would have demanded a lawyer. And I would have threatened to knee him in the groin. I would have thrown a tantrum, only worsening my position.

But it was all very clear to me that this had been our fault. How foolish we were.

I went to sleep in the corner, still refusing to touch the bed. They shut off the lights, eventually, and I huddled in my thin clothing hoping that Faleron's parents would drop any charges and I would be allowed to go. 

A dream came to me. Vinny had come to my rescue. He'd infiltrated the security system and shorted out the electronic padlock that kept me imprisoned. He'd looked at me tenderly, telling me with his eyes he had missed me just as much as I had missed him. Romance be damned, I _did_ miss him with all my heart. Down to the last lying, stealing, back-talking hair on his head. When I opened my eyes, long after midnight, I sighed. It was just a dream. It was a good dream. Far too unrealistic, but a good dream.

"Good. You're awake."

I stiffened at the words, a shiver running up my spine. I squinted in the darkness.

"Vinny?" I called out hesitantly. My heart beat more loudly in my chest. Thud thud. Thud thud.

A man's hand reached out to touch me on the shoulder. I flinched. No, it was not Vinny. That was not his touch. Not his graceful hands. Someone else.

"Shh. I'm going to get you out of here. Follow me."

I stood up quickly, nearly bumping heads with my liberator. "Who are you? What do you want from me?"

He exhaled deeply. "Nothing. There's nothing I want from you. Just come with me. I'll drive you and the kid as far as Irontown, but that's it."

"But who are you?" I demanded, whispering fiercely. I couldn't see his face in the darkness and it was really bothering me. Things like this don't just _happen_. And did he already have Faleron? How did he know about us? Was this some sort of sick trick?

No, I had to have been dreaming again.

"Please… tell me," I began to beg.

"We don't have time for introductions right now. Now shut up and follow me." His hand closed around my wrist. I had no choice but to close my mouth and do as he said. I moved awkwardly close to him in sync, my right toe against his right heel and my left foot doing the same.

I was surprised to see the station deserted. For safety reasons, there was really only one way out through the front. I was nearly certain that someone would have to see us. The lights were on, the horrible fluorescent lights that made me feel half awake. What about the security cameras? I glanced at them mistrustfully. 

"Don't worry about them," he whispered to me. 

I could see his face now. He looked to be in his early late twenties, early thirties. Dark short hair, creamy skin. Slightly angular features, but all in good proportion. He was, I bet, even taller than Vinny. It was hard for me to tell since I'm so short. Though he looked very grave, there was an air of mischief about him. Not the good kind. To my great surprise, I saw now that he was wearing a black silk shirt and a deep red necktie. His dress pants were well pressed. I could see the creases so plainly. What kind of guy breaks someone out of prison looking like he'd just come from a business meeting?

"Where is everyone?" I murmured. He didn't answer. Actually, he didn't need to. As we passed by the front desk, I saw several men and women on the floor, out cold. They appeared uninjured. Perhaps he'd used some sort of smoke bomb or something to fill the air with knockout gas. 

The monitors for the security cameras were mostly black or fuzzy with static. I couldn't help but shudder again at what kind of person was able to perform all of this and get away with it.

Wouldn't someone have shown up by now? In a big city like this, cops were bringing in all sorts of bad people at all hours of the night! Why hadn't someone come in yet? Why hadn't some squad car gotten suspicious when no one at the station answered their radio call?

The questions continued to pile up as we went calmly through the front door. Now that we were out of the building, my unnamed rescuer started to whistle nonchalantly as he looped his arm with mine and pretended that we were minding our own business—just a couple out on a very late night stroll. The sidewalk was wet from the sprinklers. We cut across the landscaping when we reached the edge of the station property. I could feel the moisture on the grass on my thinly covered ankles

Every car that passed by us caused me to flinch. I must have been squeezing his arm too tightly when the last set of headlights had gone by, because the man shook my arm irritably and shot me a warning look. 

He looked handsome. I didn't know why I hadn't noticed before or why I chose to notice now. The last thing I should have been thinking about was the attractive looks of a complete stranger. I had just escaped from _jail_, for crying out loud. And after all those romantic overtures I'd made inside my head to Vinny while I slept! What of those? Yuck. Have I ever been this shallow before?

"We're almost to the car. Just relax," he muttered to me. His voice was mildly pleasant, too. But it was not as attractive as the piercing look he gave me with his eyes. He had these dark, brooding eyes. They reminded me of Vinny only because they were completely opposite of his frosty blue ones.

I continued to stare at my rescuer, undaunted anymore by his anonymity. "Will you tell me now? Who you are? Why you're helping me?"

The man fiddled with his necktie absently. "I can't say why exactly I'm helping you. The help I can give you is very limited. There are eyes watching us constantly. It would be… dangerous for me to go any farther than what I offered." He paused and looked at me, flashing a perfect smile. "You can call me… Li."

"Lee?" I intoned.

"L-i," he spelled. "I can't tell you much more than that. Ah. There it is. Hurry it up." With that, he began to quicken his pace. I lengthened my stride to keep up with him, but he didn't seem to notice that I was stumbling over my own feet.

We reached the hovercar, a two-door sedan with a broken rear windshield wiper. I quickly climbed into the passenger side, slamming the door after me. He started up the car almost as soon as he touched the seat. His eyes darted back and forth to see if anyone had followed us.

My hands were shaking as I put the seatbelt on. I nearly screamed when I felt someone from behind me throw his arms around my neck. After a few seconds, I recognized the embrace and breathed a sigh of relief. I closed my eyes as I reached behind me to pat Faleron's soft hair.

"Nice to see you, too, squirt. Don't tell me _you_ set this all up."

As Li pulled away from the curb, it really started to sink in. The last ten minutes had gone by so fast. I could hardly bring myself to believe everything that had just happened. I turned around in my seat so I could take a look at Faleron. He appeared safe. He was still wearing the same clothes. His cheeks were a little blotchy, probably from crying. I was just happy to be with him again. 

Faleron smiled. "I was planning to run away. I was going to go out on the fire escape and come see you, Yvenne. Mr. Li met me at the bottom."

"It was foolish of you to make plans on your own," Li interrupted, a small smirk gracing his lips as he glanced in his rearview mirror at the boy. "Someone else could have reached you before I did."

"You know each other?" I asked, thoroughly confused.

"It's hard to say," Li replied after a moment's hesitation. "I've met others."

"Like Uncle Cleon and Uncle Neal! You told me you met them! That's how I knew to trust you," Faleron grinned. "There's only a handful of people who know how much Uncle Cleon likes orange juice and how Uncle Neal got that scar on his arm!"

I raised one eyebrow skeptically. So apparently it had turned into a game of "who's who?" among acquaintances. I narrowed my eyes at Li. "If the kid trusts you, I guess that's good enough for me. His judgment is pretty good—better than mine, anyway. So what's the deal?"

Li shrugged. "I'll drive you to Irontown. I have to leave right away, but I'll make sure you get there. You'll have to take care of yourselves from then on. They'll be hunting for you now, Jailbird."

"Peachy," I griped.

He grinned. I felt something in my chest constrict at that. He really reminded me of Vinny. But in the opposite. Almost like a photographic film negative. I leaned away, pressing one hand to the cold window while Faleron squeezed his shoulders between the two front seats to get a good view of us.

"Why don't you go to sleep? It will be a long drive," Li suggested.

It was hard to argue with him. I suddenly realized how tired I was. I really did need the sleep. There was no longer any anxiety about Li murdering us in our sleep and burying us in the middle of nowhere. He'd passed Faleron's test. And the little squirt was a good judge of character. I certainly didn't know what to make of him.

But with the pressing matter of Vinny's disappearance, Faleron's running away, and my "prison break," the matter of a mysterious rescuer didn't faze me. It _couldn't_ faze me. There were so many other things to worry about.

"Go to sleep," Li urged in a gentle voice.

It soothed me to hear him say that, though I don't know why. Feeling like I had betrayed someone, though in actuality I had not, I fervently pictured a memory about Vinny, Faleron and I in my mind. I gazed at Li for a few more moments, at odds with myself. The man hadn't even done anything truly notable—I had just met him… but there was something different about him. 

It was the same sort of "different" that I felt from Vinny. I tried not to think about it too hard and forced my eyes closed. The rest would do me good.

~~

My body sagged against the cold metal interior of the van. The pounding of my heart spread throughout my body. I could feel it in my head—in my stomach, behind my eyes, in my fingertips. I slowly curled my hands into fists and, clammy forehead still pressed against the metal, lashed out. I gritted my teeth, knowing I was doing nothing more than bruising my knuckles. _Doesn't fucking matter. They'll heal quickly. _I flung myself away and collapsed on the hard vehicular floor.

It felt like curling up on top of an ice pond. I closed my eyes, wondering what would happen if I stopped breathing right then. After that, I stared into the empty space surrounding me. There was my heartbeat again. So loud. Like in stereo. 

I think I lost touch with my humanity then. I opened my eyes, my pupils shrinking to sharp pinpoints. All that ran through my mind at that very moment was, _I'm going to kill them._

With a sudden burst of energy, I rolled over onto my knees and glared at the small peephole where the men in the front of the van could slide the grating back and check in on me. I pretended that the slot was open and that all my rage could get out through the space and down the throats of my kidnappers. Choking them. Faces turning blue.

"_Do you hear me, you mother fuckers?!_" I screamed, hearing my vocal cords constrict in pain at forcing such a volume. "_I'm going to kill you bastards when I get out of here!" _

The slot slid open a crack, just enough for me to see dark, emotionless eyes. All I saw was red. Fresh blood for a shark! Cannibal delight! With a feral cry, I leapt for the peephole, eager to claw the asshole's eyes out. Damn it all! He slid it shut again before I could cause any damage. I threw my body against the side of the van again, howling like a werewolf.  Like I'd lost all my sanity.

Who knows? Maybe I _was_ crazy.

Like an animal in a damn cage. That's what I was. I willed my brain over and over to foresee something… _anything_… that would get me out of there. I tried to see where we were going, although it was pretty obvious from the beginning. Styx! Home sweet home. Or should I say prison?

Wherever Ansil Groten was, I hoped his dick would rot and shrivel off. I hoped that his hair and teeth fell out and that his skin was covered with disgusting, oily pimples and boils. Puss. Lots of puss. Where the _fuck_ is a voodoo doll when you need one?

I growled and angrily wiped tears of frustration from my eyes. My face was hot and my skin pink and bruised from my own abuse. It didn't matter so much as what had gotten me into this mess in the first place. I knew it! I knew that jackass was out to get me from the very beginning! Why couldn't I sense it? How could a scumbag like him get the best of me? ME? 

Vinny Winston! Vinny the Unbeatable! I fooled chumps for a living! I was the greatest con artist you ever saw! Pick locks? Lie through my teeth? Break into high security shindigs like it was child's play? Hell yeah! That was me! Now this… this… cop _wannabe_ had gotten the best of me? No! No, he hadn't! The game was not over. Far from over! Not by a long shot.

I pounded on the sides of the vans again. My voice was becoming hoarse. I didn't care. I didn't friggin _care_. A rational part of me begged me to save my strength, but there was another part of me—a crazier, raw beast with its teeth bared and its fangs dripping with hot saliva—that said no one messed with me and got away with it.

Fucking _no one_.

~~

Author's notes: yay! I put off yet another VERY important project to write fanfics! Yay! And I feel WAY too lazy, so I'm not going to edit! There are so many errors, it's painful to look at—but I've got to get this history project done or I'm SCREWED! WHEE!

Thanks for reading. Hopefully I'll survive long enough to write another episode within the next several months…


	13. Out of This World

The Gift

Episode 13: Out of This World

_By Sulia Serafine_

This is an ALTERNATE UNIVERSE fic. This is the sequel series to It Could Be Worse, which will end with season 4. NOTE: You can read it if you have not read ICBW. It's possible. You won't get the foreshadowing and the cameos, but you will, eventually. I'd explain them. Credit goes to Tamora Pierce. I'm broke, so you can't sue me. Any other copyrighted things that don't belong to me in here in fact belong to other very businesslike people. Could you believe that? I guess that's why I'm broke.

WARNING: This episode is rated R, because Vinny is awake and pissed and VULGAR and hoo boy, our censors don't like it when he's pissed…

Author's note: As I write this, it is April 12, 2004. I graduate on May 17, 2004. Significance: I have little more than a month before I will no longer have to stall my writing by studying for tests. (Speaking of which, I'm tanking in calculus and really need to study… why am I writing instead of studying?! I'm such a bad student…)

Quoting the intro theme to Generator Gawl, "I want out. Sever the chains of destiny."

Somebody. Please. Fast forward me to the end of May! T.T

~~

I was having a vengeful daydream about flaying and maiming my kidnappers, Silence of the Lambs style, when the back doors to the van opened and blinding white daylight came pouring in. I recoiled at first. Having adjusted to the darkness of the van had made me sensitive to the sudden brightness that assaulted my vision. I squinted and raised an arm to shield my eyes as I approached the doors.

Two pairs of large hands grabbed me by the arms and hauled me out.

"Whoa! Hey, watch it!" I yelled as I landed unceremoniously on the ground. I skinned my palms on the asphalt trying to brace my fall. Two large men who could have been wrestlers in spandex but were instead orderlies dressed in gray leaned down to pick me up by the back of my shirt. I was set right on my feet. I swatted their hands away from me. Ugh. I hate people touching me. Especially guys who've just kidnapped me and tossed me into the back of a white van.

Laughter floated across the way from me. I turned to see who it was. And no, it wasn't Santa Claus.

"Coram!" the old man greeted with a wide, hideous smile. Nope. Definitely not a jolly fat man.

"Doctor Chiles," I returned, glaring at him. I couldn't help but wonder at that very moment: _if I were to throttle the good doctor right now, how long would it take the Gray Men to whoop my ass?_ I glanced to either side of me at the orderlies. Not too bloody long.

"Welcome back!" The doctor swept his arms to the side, gesturing to the place we stood in. It was the entrance to a familiar compound. Yes, ladies and gentleman, I was home, sweet home. 

I could see the separate buildings for the boys ward and the girls ward. There was the roof that I had so desperately jumped off of to make my escape. That was the place where Jacob and I almost made our great escape together before his innocent young love and loyalty dragged him back. I turned my eyes away from the top of the building and gazed elsewhere. 

It's deceptive. The green grass, a freshly mowed lawn where perhaps some birds were this morning, pecking for worms. The buildings were white and smooth. The windows were shaded so that only someone inside could see out. That's a good thing to have when you want to keep your secrets hidden. There was even a metal plate on the wall by the front doors. In flowing gothic script it read, "The Styx Hospital for Advanced Children."

What was that _supposed_ to sound like? Did people from the outside actually read that and think it meant that there was nothing suspicious about it? Did they think that the children inside must be incredibly smart and privileged? What a lie…

The doors opened. Four men dressed in gray high collar uniforms like the orderlies exited. As soon as the doors closed behind them, they unbuttoned their jackets and took them off to reveal dark shirts of a thick, coarse material. The men were relatively young. They actually looked to be about my age. As they came closer, it became clearer to see white numbers painted on the collars. And they weren't black shirts, but dark green army surplus uniforms.

"Ah, the welcoming committee," I muttered. I threw a scathing look at Chiles. "So that's what the Gray Men really are? Soldiers? I should have suspected as much."

Chiles chuckled. "My, my, my, young Coram. I had hoped you would recognize them. Since you don't, we'll simply proceed inside and begin the tests."

I clenched my fists, aware that two large burly men were right behind me, ready to take me down if I made the wrong move. 

"Tests? That's all you brought me back for? Tests?"

"Well, of course," Chiles drawled. "You've been gone for quite some time. We could have collected you earlier, but my colleagues and I thought it would be a good experiment to see how the outer world affected your… development. But now the trial period is over and you're old enough to be back where you belong."

I took a step forward. Surprisingly, no one grabbed me to hold me still. "Back where I belong? Back where I _belong_? In a nut house? In a conspiratorial, psycho—"

The doctor started up the steps and toward the front doors of the hospital. I was right on his heels, loudly voicing all my grievances about his idea of where he thought I 'belonged.' As we went up the steps, I shoved through the group of four men. Suddenly, an electric shock went through my hand after I had pushed the shoulder of one of the men.

_Ouch. That's not right._ I whirled around, wide eyed with surprise. The last man I had pushed stared back at me. His dark eyes seemed familiar. Burning like coals in the darkness. No, that's not possible. It was so bright outside. How could I see darkness? 

But I did. I stared at him, confused. There was something… oh, what was it? My gaze lowered to look at the number that was printed on his uniform. My mind must have been playing tricks on me. Delusion befalls those who have spent the last few hours screaming and thrashing about inside an enclosed space.

"0554," I whispered. I know that number. It's… it's…

_Oh, gods, please please please don't let it be true._

As if to spite me, a dark brown falcon shrieked from above and alighted on the young man's shoulder. It shrieked again and flapped its wings. Its sharp beak looked like it could gouge my eyes out within a manner of seconds. I involuntarily stumbled backward. The young man appeared unfazed.

"B-baker?" I stuttered.

There was a sudden electric jolt racing up my arm again, the arm that had touched him. The scene before me disappeared, and before my bewitched eyes appeared the image of a young boy who sat in the corner of a playground, feeding pigeons and looking mistrustfully about him. I breathed in sharply and let the vision go. There was no denying it now. Here he was: Baker.

"Come along, Coram," Doctor Chiles called. That bastard. He didn't sound worried in the least.

Baker stepped forward. He had grown up and filled out, like I had. Skinny turned into lanky, maybe even a little more muscular than me. Seeing him dressed in that dark camouflage sure convinced me that he was probably capable of taking me down within five seconds. 

"Baker! Don't you know me? It's me, Vinny!" I said animatedly. I frowned. "I mean, it's me, Winston. Patient 0550, remember? Baker!"

Without thinking of the consequences, I reached forward and grabbed his arm. Baker's eyes widened. His gloved hands shot out and grabbed my arm, squeezing and twisting it. Before I could even know what was going on, he shifted sideways and used my momentum against me. I flew over his shoulder and down the steps onto my back. The steps of the hospital entrance dug into my back. Baker still held onto my arm. In fact, I was absolutely sure he had just _broken_ my arm.

He moved again and suddenly his boot was on my chest, crushing my ribcage. I cried out in excruciating pain as he continued to twist my mangled arm. Baker's comrades stood to the side, stone faced. I didn't care much about them. Not when all my mind could think about was the source of my injury. Baker! Breaking my arms and my ribs and looking like a fucking automaton while he did it!

It didn't help that the falcon had suddenly decided to attack as well, landing on my body and deciding to bite perhaps the most precious part of my body. Yeah. You guessed it.__

Now that's a whole new world of pain right there, folks.

"Excellent! You may stop now, 0554. That will be enough for today."

The pressure on my chest and the grip around my arm disappeared. I opened my eyes to see Baker step back. The falcon hopped off my body and returned to its master, preening itself on his shoulder. I groaned brokenly and turned onto my side, curling into a fetal position and cradling my broken arm.

_Excellent?__ Baker just broke my arm and __Chiles__ says EXCELLENT?_

"I don't believe we have any documents on the accelerated healing of broken bones, do we? Ah, this presents a very wonderful opportunity! Get him inside, quickly! I want a complete examination right now!"

The two Gray Men who had hauled me out of the van now unceremoniously picked me up by my ankles and armpits and began following the doctor into the hospital.

"Shall we set the bone in place?"

Through my pain, I opened my eyes and glanced at my arm. _Wow. Whaddya know… That's a funny angle…_

Chiles paused to consider it. "I suppose. It is a bit unsettling to look at that."

"Fuck off!" I screamed at him.

"Or we could choose _not_ to set the bone back properly," he said, raising his voice to match my intensity. I remained quiet. It was difficult to remain still as they carried me inside. I grit my teeth as hard as I could. If I had been biting my tongue, I would have bit it clean off by now.

The halls were just as white and sterile as I'd left them. No one else was there but a few more Gray Men, standing in a line against the wall. They watched me while smirking. Perhaps some of them recognized me, this boy who'd ran away the first chance he got. Where were the children? The patients?

Of course they wouldn't let the children know I was there. That would upset their little worlds, especially the ones who had convinced themselves that the Styx hospital was the safest place in the world for them. Gods forbid they should ever question a young man being brought in with a broken arm and bruises on his chest and neck. That would mean that something strange was going on in the hospital.

And that just couldn't happen. Not in the minds of ten year olds who have never known anything else.

The pain was consuming me. Did I even _have_ an arm at that point? Or was it just a piece of flesh and bone that hung from my body? It hurt to breathe. I could feel the tenderness of my ribs as I was manhandled onto a bed. There was the smell of sterilization again. Eww. Now I'm sure I didn't miss that.

After what felt like an eternity, I finally let go and let my subconscious claim me. My eyes fluttered closed, the second time in too short of a period. 

"_Exit light. Enter night. Take my hand. We're off to Never Neverland."_

~~

The dull buzzing sound was the first thing I noticed when I woke up. The hum of electronic equipment, of fluorescent lights, of all the things that made me wonder if this really _was_ hell. Only the Devil would think of something as ingenious as dull buzzing sounds to slowly drive a man insane. I blinked a few times, lifting my pounding head up a few inches to peer in front of me.

"Not this room again," I moaned, recognizing my location instantly. I let my head drop back onto my pillow. It smelt like fresh laundry with a hint of bleach. Nice. No, not really.

"You are awake."

I lifted my head again. The young man I formerly knew as Baker was seated on a padded stool in the corner of the room. His arms were folded across his chest. Unlike before, this time he was fully dressed in black and green camouflage. Right. Because you could blend with colors like that in a building of white floors and walls. Sssuuurre.

A sharp pain raced up my entire left side. I groaned and squeezed my eyes shut. "Couldn't you just pretend to be Wally here to visit me with a cup of water?"

"Excuse me?" Baker frowned.

"Nothing," I muttered. I glanced down at my side. My arm was in a splint. It was blue, purple, and red from the damage Baker had done. Almost like art, the way the colors meshed together on my skin. I've heard of men dying for their art, but this was ridiculous.

I looked at Baker again, completely annoyed by the person I saw. As children, we had never been particularly close. He was always so stoic and distant from Wally and me. He had been the rebel, the boy who sneakily defied the doctors and openly disrespected the Gray Men. This young man before me, he looked like a brainwashed soldier. I had very little doubt in my mind that he would follow any order that Chiles gave him now.

That's a long way coming from the boy I once sold a year's worth of homework to for the means to escape this godforsaken place.

"What kind of drugs do you have me on? Shouldn't it hurt more than this?" I asked, my voice cracking. My throat was dry. I spied a glass of water on the nightstand beside me and licked my cracked lips. However, Baker stayed where he was, noting my wanting eyes and the water glass with indifference. Jerk. "Well?"

Baker glanced at an IV bag in the corner that was, by the way, _not_ connected to me in any fashion. I suppose they really were trying to test my natural healing skills. But why would they give me painkillers? They've never done that before.

"What is it?" I asked, exasperated. "Morphine? Methadone?"

"Nothing. I hear it's all you," Baker replied with a simple shrug. 

To disprove his theory, I moved my arm, expecting a dull numbness instead of the agony that nearly consumed me on the spot. I howled with pain as I tried to lay my arm still again back down on the bed beside me. From his place in the corner, Baker smirked, the neo-sadist that he was.

"Argh! You bastards! I'm going to kill you all when I get out of here!" I shouted. I fixed my gaze on my former fellow patient with my best menacing look. "This is your last chance. Let me go. Help me get out of here."

"No."

"Baker!"

"Please refrain by addressing me by that name. My identification tag is 0554."

I pouted. "Your name is Baker, the boy who can control the birds. Not Soldier of Fortune."

"Correction. I am addressed and identified as 0554." With that, the boy I formerly knew as Baker stood up and approached the bed. I tried not to cringe as he came closer. It wasn't because I feared him, but my arm hurt so badly. The last thing I wanted was for him to see me weak.

Can you imagine that? I'm still one proud, nose-up-in-air, arrogant bastard more concerned with his image than his _own tormenting pain_. What a nut job I turned out to be, huh?

"The doctor will be in to see you soon."

He said it so calmly. Exactly like a Gray Man. Was that who he was now? One of them?

"Hey, wait! Don't you dare leave!" I shouted hoarsely. Baker stopped and turned to face me again. I used the last bit of my waning strength to keep my head up so I could see him properly. "What's going on? What are you? What is this place, really?"

Without answering me, Baker pressed a button on the door that slid it open. He stepped out and closed it behind him. Defeated, I let my head drop back onto my pillow. Well, that went well. I'm such a commanding, powerful guy. Yup. He was that close to cracking and giving me the information I needed. I _wish_.

I eyed the glass of water again. To tell you the absolute truth, I have never wanted anything in my life more than I wanted that water at that moment. There were tumbleweeds practically rolling down my desert of a throat! Give me a friggin break!

My pain and my anger had left me lying there as a big vulgar pile of groaning goo. It was not a pretty sight. I'll make sure to leave it out of my memoirs. Can't charm anyone with the image of me as a insipid invalid stinking with sweat, can I?

The door opened after not too long a time. I had expected Chiles to enter, the skeletal lap dog of the Black God himself, but instead, a much crueler angel came to taunt me. 

"Oh, gods, anyone but you," I moaned. "Get out! Get the fuck out!"

Ansil Groten smiled at me as he tucked a fountain pen into a lab pocket on the left side of his chest. He used a small metal writing implement to scrawl a message on the touch-sensitive screen of a PDA. He whistled as if he'd never heard me. He rolled the stool on its tiny screeching wheels to the foot of my bed. Then he sat gracefully, moving masterfully as if he were auditioning for a Broadway play or something. Cocky son of a…

"So! How are we today? Aches? Pains? I'm surprised. We only set the bone back a few hours ago, but it seems like you're body is taking exponential leaps in recovering."

I pursed my lips.

"Well? Does your head hurt? Does your arm tingle? Do tell," he urged.

"Kiss. My. Ass," I ground out between clenched teeth. That traitor! Not only was he a spy for Doctor Chiles, he was a doctor himself! And to think, I was this close to trusting him! Yukishiro was right. I should never have talked to him. I should have turned heel and ran the first time I even looked at him. 

And even worse: I had left the baby with him. The baby—Wally Aonir—that I had gone to so much trouble rescuing from the clutches of Chiles and his lackeys! The poor kid was probably in the Styx hospital nursery, being brainwashed with strange toys handing over his cradle. No, they did not hang electronic chimes that played "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star", but the toccata and fugue in D minor that is the classic theme to Dracula. (Bet you didn't even know I knew that. Told you I had class.)

Ansil put his PDA away in his pocket and resigned himself to watching me intently. I stared back defiantly at him, not even blinking. It was childish, this staring contest, but I didn't particularly care. I hated him so much. On some subconscious level, I was terrified by the fact that if I didn't have a broken arm or if my other arm wasn't tied down, I would have leapt off the bed and killed the man sitting in front of me. 

It wasn't just me expressing my rage and anger and betrayal. I _really_ wanted to kill him. 

And for some unexplainable reason, I wondered right then if that homicidal notion had been my father in me talking.

Ansil gestured to the glass of water on my night stand. "Are you thirsty?"

_Oh, yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes—_

"Go fuck yourself. Better yet, find a rectal thermometer and fuck yourself."

_What the hell is WRONG with me?_

Needless to say, I didn't get my glass of water. The man laughed in my face (I was expecting him to punch me in the face for my vulgarity and disrespect, but apparently he didn't want to condescend to my level. Good thing, that) before he stood up and retreated toward the door. He explained that some nurses would be in to bring me to the radiology imaging technicians. X-rays, in laymen's terms. No, they had no intention of putting my arm in a cast or giving me painkillers. They just wanted to get their dinky little black and whites of my _friggin__ broken arm_!

Sadists. All of them. Ugh.

~~

I opened my eyes and the sky was a rosy pink and orange color over the line of the dark treetops. I outlined the little wisps of clouds in my mind until I had reached as far as I could see. Then I rolled over on my reclined seat and looked at the other occupants of the car.

Faleron was lying on the back seat, curled up underneath his jacket and a blanket I had not seen before. Maybe he'd brought it with him. No, the boy had been in such a rush to run away. It was probably Li's blanket.

Speaking of which, Li was also lying down on his reclined seat behind the steering wheel. He was lying on his side facing me. Sleeping in his tie and shirt had made both wrinkled. It felt wrong, somehow, seeing him sleep in a wrinkled business suit, sans jacket—

Jacket. I slowly looked down at myself. There was a man's suit jacket draped across my body. It was black, matching the slacks that Li wore. It must have been his. When had he done this? It was too nice a gesture from a complete stranger. You know me. I don't trust anyone. And yet…

I took the jacket in my arms, folding it up. Another glance at Li's peaceful face made me unfold the jacket. I gently laid it over his slumbering form. My touch wasn't gentle enough. My mysterious rescuer stirred from his sleep, making a little groaning sound. He rubbed his eyelids with the heels of his palms and blinked his eyes open. He saw me and smiled.

"Good morning."

I pouted. He looked so tired. Did I look that tired? I hoped I didn't have bags under my eyes. He shouldn't have to see a gross looking woman so early in the morning. "How long did you drive? You probably didn't sleep that long, did you?"

He yawned. "No. Not really. But I should be fine. Honestly."

Oh, gods help me. I didn't know why, but he made me smile. Maybe it was because if I had been in the same situation with Vinny, he would have replied with some arrogant, cocky answer that made him look suave and made me look like a kooky girl. I returned Li's smile and lied back down on the seat. We stared at each other for a while.

He had the most piercing eyes I've ever seen. It was like he bore a hole straight through me. But I didn't feel any different from it. Not like I'd had holes in me or that I was something weird that _needed_ to be stared at. I've been so used to the almost sisterly treatment from Vinny and Faleron that I'd forgotten what it felt like to be noticed by a man.

Was that what this was?

"Go back to sleep," I whispered. "We're safe where we are."

Li yawned again as he checked his watch. He nodded and closed his eyes again. I reached forward and adjusted the jacket so it covered him more completely. He murmured a sleepy 'thanks' and fell back into slumber.

_I wish Vinny were more like that._

I closed my eyes and joined my companions in wonderful sleep.

When I woke up again, Li was driving with one hand on the steering wheel and his other elbow sticking out the window. The radio was on and Faleron was humming in tune with a popular song that had been on the Top 40 countdown for two weeks. Yes, because singing about seducing someone in the corner of the nightclub and stripping their clothes from them merits mucho radio airtime. I hate pop culture.

I sat up and yawned. I looked at the clock. Hmm. I'd slept for another two hours. 

"Hungry?" 

Li glanced at me, a slight smile on his face. Faleron, who was also wide awake, bounced in the back seat, offering me a bag of what looked like breakfast menu fast food. Muffin sandwiches, bad sausages, and hash browns. I took a hash brown and readjusted my seat so that it was upright.

"Where are we?" I asked in between bites.

"Halfway to Irontown. We're making good time, even with the break we took back at that park," Li replied. He pointed to the drink holder in front of the radio. "There's coffee, if you like. It's black, though. The sugar and cream is somewhere in the bag."

"Thanks." Oh man, did I need coffee. I used to hate the stuff, but after a while, I couldn't wake up properly without it. It's an essential part to my morning routine. Ha! And they say coffee is addictive. I reached for the second Styrofoam cup. The first one was half full and must have belonged to Li.  

Faleron handed me two packets of sugar. By this point in time, he knew how I took my coffee. It was an endearing little moment, seeing his smile. I wonder what the boy was thinking. Was he worried about Vinny? Was he wondering what we were going to have for lunch? Little boys. I'll be darned if I ever figure them out. At least he looks happy.

We drove for a few miles, just listening to the radio. I didn't like many of the songs that came on, but we only got static when we tried to tune in to another radio station. And it was better than silence. I glanced at Li from time to time. Maybe there was an alternative to the radio.

I reached forward and turned it off.

"Hey, can I ask you something?"

Li hid his surprise well. He grinned and nodded. "Sure. Shoot."

"Why?"

He gave me a questioning look. "Why what?"

"Why help us? And how did you know I was in the holding cell? How did you find out where Fal lived?" I leaned forward. He didn't appear nervous. He didn't even appear annoyed. I suppose in his position, I would have expected questions, too. But sheesh! What answer was he willing to give us?

Our rescuer continued to remain the pinnacle of calm. "I'm a friend of Vinny's. He just doesn't know it. And as for knowing where you both were… It's not like I've been watching. Other people were. I'm just the person they sent."

I shook my head. "But why Vinny? Why is he so important? Why is a boy just trying to find his parents so damn important to everyone that he has to be kidnapped?"

"Who told you he was kidnapped?" he asked quickly.

"I guessed. He wouldn't have left on his own without telling us. Are you saying he wasn't?"

Li shook his head. "No. He was kidnapped, don't make any mistake about that. I was just wondering what you had heard, that's all."

"You know more than us, that's for sure."

"Trust me. That's not necessarily a good thing," he responded. After that, he reached for the radio and turned the volume up. I pouted and folded my arms across my chest. If Li didn't want to talk, then there would be no point in trying to make him. I resigned myself to watching the scenery outside. It was boring as hell, but what else could I do?

An hour later, Faleron begged Li to exit to a rest stop so he could use the restroom. We pulled in to what looked like the regional Tourist Center. There were more vehicles parked there than we expected. Li warned Faleron to keep his head down and not attract any attention to himself. Though we had only been traveling for a day, there was still a good chance that word had been sent out to the whole northeastern area of the country about us.

I fidgeted in the passenger seat. I should have went with Fal! What if the same thing that happened to Vinny happened to him?

Suddenly, I noticed Li's hand over mine. I blinked.

"What?"

"You're too nervous. Twitching isn't exactly inconspicuous, you know."

He released my hand and went back to watching the steady flow of people going in and out of the building. The front of the building had large clear windows that allowed us to see the front desk and the line to the restrooms. Though no longer moving, I anxiously watched the door, waiting to see the third member of our party.

I glanced over at Li. There he was, still sitting as calm and composed as ever. There was something bugging me. This James Bond beside me was just too good to be true. Too movie-like for my belief. I sighed.

"What now?" he asked listlessly.

_He knows what I'm going to say. Might as well get it over with. _"Li, have you ever… killed anyone?"

Just as I expected without a moment's hesitation, he said, "Yes."

"M-more than one?"

"Yes," he answered, starting to sound a bit impatient. He turned to face me. "Does that bother you?"

His dark eyes caught me off guard. I jerked away, shaking my head. Why did it always feel like he was reading my mind when he did that? "No. I suppose it makes me feel a little safer. Because, you know, no one else can…"

"I won't let anyone harm the two of you," he assured, completing my thought. Yes. If anyone tried to kidnap Faleron or me, he had the skill and the experience to not only protect us, but to remove any threat by any means possible. I wondered then if he had a gun and if it was loaded. Did he even need a gun to kill someone?

He also sighed and slumped into his seat a little further. While he kept his gaze straight ahead, he spoke. "You still have a question."

He hadn't _asked_ me what my question was; more like commanded me to ask him whatever else was on my mind. I blushed and fidgeted again. My fingers had started to nervously drum against my thigh. His hand shot out and closed around mine again, stilling my movement. He squeezed gently.

"Go ahead. Better now than when the kid's here," he murmured.

"Do you know who Vinny's parents are?"

Li didn't respond at first. Then he slowly nodded. I let out a sigh of relief.

"Won't you tell us? Vinny has been searching for so long and—"

"Why would you help him so easily? Damn it! He's been keeping secrets from you since the beginning. In fact," his voice dropped low. "He's _still_ keeping secrets." Li's expression became ominous. Was he angry? I involuntarily shrank away, but his hand remained closed around mine, preventing me from leaving the car if I'd wanted. That didn't matter either. His eyes held me spellbound.

With a suppressed shudder, I realized he was _really_ reading my mind. I know that sounds crazy, but I thought he really was. I didn't know how to explain it, but I just knew he was doing it. Like he knew magic or something. 

"Are you mad?" I whispered nervously. It wasn't that he scared me. I was just… it's wasn't a good idea to make him mad when he was our only hope of finding Vinny. I mean, it's not like I still feel that way about Vinny. I just feel so bad about everything. I should just set it straight: Vinny is my friend (for better or for worse, that creep) and I want to help him.

Besides, Li was keeping secrets from me just like Vinny. Okay, okay, so it's his job not to reveal that information. What the hell am I doing? Trying to justify my trust in Li? I've known Vinny for a while now and I continue to find more reasons not to fully trust him. And here I am trusting a guy who's admitted to bumping off a few people.

Li let go of my hand. I pulled it to my chest and cradled it there like a wounded bird.

"I'm not mad," he replied. And then he did the strangest thing. His gaze softened and he chuckled, as if he had found something ironic about the situation. He rested his elbow on the steering wheel and propped his chin up on his palm. "I just don't get it. Those damn blondies reject the ones that love them back and the girls are still willing to do whatever it takes to please them. Like father, like son, I guess. I didn't think I was going to be so annoyed by it after so many years."

I gasped. "You know Vinny's father personally?"

His expression dimmed a bit. "Unfortunately."

"But that's great!  Don't you see? Because…" I trailed off when I saw how unhappy it made Li to see me excited at that. Perhaps Vinny's father wasn't that great of a man after all. I mean, if Li knew him personally and if Li was a professional killer… Oh man. Not cool. I'd better make sure I had a long talk with Vinny before we finally ventured off to find his father.

Another question formed in my mind. I watched the Tourist Center. Thank goodness Faleron was taking his time. Maybe he had stopped by the vending machine to get some extra food. I bit my bottom lip softly.

"What happened? Between you and Vinny's dad? You said… something about rejection."

"Nothing… happened. Nothing you need to know anyway," he replied. He changed the subject quickly. "I just don't understand why you would still help Vinny after he rejected you."

_He _is_ a mind reader._

"Of course I'd still help him. He's my friend."

"So you still care about him? As more than a friend?" he pressed.

_Damn it, I better not be blushing._ "No. I care because… I pity him."

And that was the truth. Li mulled over my words for a few moments. He continued to stare at me. "Why?"

"Why?" I echoed. "What else can I do for somebody who says he's stopped seeing beauty in the world?"

Li laughed loudly at that, almost like he'd heard the same joke a long time ago. I didn't think that Vinny's depression was all that funny, but apparently it was to him. Maybe it was something that reminded him of Vinny's dad. That's a creepy thought.

We lapsed into another silence. Faleron was now exiting the tourist center and entering the parking lot. As he approached the car, I realized that this was my last chance to ask Li anything. I turned to him quickly, my mind frantic for the right question. Who kidnapped Vinny? Why had they done it? Was he being hurt by his kidnappers? What secrets was Vinny still keeping from me? I needed to make this one count.

"Li?"

"Yes?"

"Do you… do you think I'm beautiful?"

"Yes," he said tenderly. "And there _is_ beauty in the world. You just have to wait a while to see it."

I took a deep breath. "If I kiss you, will you stay with us and help us?"

The corner of his mouth curled up in a crooked smile. "Probably."

Faleron was busy opening the bag chips he had gotten from the vending machine while trying to reach the rear door handle. Before the little boy could see, I impulsively leaned forward and pressed my lips to his. Li didn't pull away. His lips were wonderfully warm. I leaned back. His eyes burned into me again. It was clear to him that I had been lonely. But somehow I knew he had been lonely for years longer. I wanted to kiss him again just for all that time he suffered.

A few seconds later, Faleron opened the door. Li started up the car. And I smiled.

~~

I had dreamt of a man with dark hair and dark eyes holding Yvenne's hand. I thought to myself that I should have been jealous of the idea, but in fact, I was strangely relieved. She wouldn't be after me anymore. But did that mean she was going to forget about me? Was she still going to come get me out of this place? With a heavy sigh, I knew the answer. No. I was on my own from here on out.

"It was a clean break," Ansil consoled, looking at the x-rays. "And it seems like the tissue around the bone has already been healing at a highly accelerated rate. You should be happy."

"I will be once I break _your_ bones, cop boy," I growled from my bed. After I repeated it again in my head, I felt somewhat ashamed that I couldn't have thought of anything wittier. Oh well. I'll chalk it up to being distracted by pain.

The Gray Men came to put me into a wheelchair again. Since I'd already been to radiology, I wondered where on earth they would need me next. Perhaps they wanted blood tests or urine samples. Ugh. I didn't care anymore. I just wanted out of that _room,_ away from Ansil!

I pitched forward a little out of exhaustion, my chin nearly on my chest. Though one of my arms was in a splint, the other was buckled down with a strap of leather, as were my feet. For crying out loud, did they actually think I'd attempt a jailbreak with a freshly broken arm?! These people really are insane! I just want some painkillers or a bottle of tequila! Or, at this point, both…

They wheeled me past the classrooms, past the rooms where I used to have Session. I wondered if there were any boys inside at that very moment. They could be suffering horrible psychoanalysis right now-- being forced to tell their every thought to a man who would use it against them. 

I kept my eyes forward. I couldn't recognize where I was. 

"You would never have seen this place. It was restricted to patients," said the Gray Man, who was pushing my wheelchair.

"Secrets, secrets, secrets..." I muttered. The orderly was probably an ex-patient. Mind reader perhaps?

"Yes, actually," he replied. I groaned inwardly. _Figures.___

We entered a room where there was a blank white screen and a chair positioned perhaps fifteen feet away from it. The chair itself came straight out of the old black and white movies—made of wood, with black leather harnesses and a few stains that looked oddly like blood. The bile rose in my throat at the thought of having to even touch it. 

Yuck. How unsanitary can you get? I know this place probably doesn't get inspected by the Health Department, but sheesh! Ew!

In the back of the room, anchored near the ceiling, there was a projector protruding from the wall. It all started to make sense. This was a room where they strapped someone down and showed films that were meant to brainwash and manipulate. Oh. Nice. And they probably inject the poor unfortunate soul with a chemical solution meant to create complacency (Gods know we don't have enough of _those)._

Chiles entered the room then. He watched as the Gray Men lifted me from my wheelchair and put me on the other. Now that I sat in it, it reminded me of an old-fashioned electric chair. The kind they used to execute murderers and capital offenders on. Actually… wait. I stared at the bolts on the wood and at the top of the headrest, which looked like something had been ripped off and replaced. It probably had been an electric chair at some point—

_Ow__. No, no, stop it… Ow… Ow! Not that!_

Of all the things in the world for my gift to finally react to, it was this.

I heard a low wailing sound. Was that _me_? 

"Something wrong?" the doctor asked. 

I shut my eyes tightly, but I could still see the vision clearly. A man with a leather mask on was writhing and twitching in this very chair while sparks flew between his body and the metal touching it. I couldn't even scream! The pain that suddenly fell upon me was unbearable. It felt as if those same jolts of electricity were flowing through my limbs, straight to my bursting heart.

"Get me out! No!" I shouted. I thrashed about, sending stabs of pain through my splinted arm. That didn't seem as important. The other pain was worse.

The sensations subsided, leaving me pale and sweaty. I gasped for breath and felt salty moisture drip into my eyes. I strained against the leather straps, but they would not budge.

Chiles peered at me. "Interesting." He signaled to the Gray Man standing behind me. "Cancel the film. I think little Coram and I are going to have a talk."

"You and I have nothing to talk about," I panted. 

"I don't believe," the doctor began, "that you're in a position to argue. Now I know how intelligent you are, my little Coram. You were always one of my brightest patients."

"You mean, the only one who managed to develop thoughts of freedom and act upon them successfully," I corrected, a smug look coming back into its usual place on my face. 

The frail old man snorted. "You were of little importance then. But now! Now you have started to come into your full potential. You have no idea how precious you are. You… and your gifts."

I gulped nervously. I blinked the sweat from my eyes again. He waited for me to speak. When I didn't, he frowned. 

"Come, now. I know you've probably foreseen what I'm about to propose. Tell me your answer."

I looked away. Yeah, okay. So I did see. He had been about to ask me if I wished to enter his service with the other Gray Men of my own free will, so as to save myself from brainwashing and to become a major figure in whatever operation they were running. But how could I do that? There's more than meets the eye here. Children from Styx don't just grow up and become orderlies. They go somewhere else. But where?

The familiar tingling at the base of my skull prompted me to think of how I'd mocked Baker earlier. Soldier of Fortune, I had called him. How ironically true.

But really, folks, what option do I have here? I'm strapped to an antique electric chair with a broken arm and some bruised ribs. No one knows where I am and every orderly in the hospital was capable of forming a small army to take over the world with their supernatural talents.

May it always be said that I have never denied being a self-serving asshole. Weak, sometimes. Prone to short bouts of human emotion in which little boys and young ladies have manipulated me into a being a decent person—but on the whole, very selfish and very opportunistic.

My eyes flickered toward the sunken eyes of Doctor Chiles.

"If I join you willingly, I expect to be made general of this army of yours. Don't bother telling me the cause or the enemy. I don't care. It won't matter soon anyway."

"And why is that?" he asked.

"Because I foresee," I lied blatantly, angry at my choice of destinies, "that this small army will fail and I will kill myself before I let anyone else shut me up in a padded room handcuffed to the floor."

Don't give me that look.

May it be said that I have been cynical, sarcastic, even pessimistic about how my life was to turn out. However, may it _never_ be said that I have always been a nihilist. You see, once upon a time, I was a little boy who stared out windows—wondering how much beauty the world could possibly hold. Where has that boy gone? Didn't he still believe that there was a wonderful meaning to life?

I dug my nails into the arms of the chair. The rusty dark stains were more slightly moist than the rest of the wood. I pressed them against my fingertips. Blood and sweat, it was.

No. I was born in the filth and shadows. Parents or no, I will lie in them again with only my gift for company.

_I am the key to the lock in your house  
That keeps your toys in the basement  
And if you get too far inside  
You'll only see my reflection  
_  
_It's always best when the light is off  
I am the pick in the ice  
Do not cry out or hit the alarm  
You know we're friends till we die  
  
And either way you turn  
I'll be there  
Open up your skull  
I'll be there  
Climbing up the walls  
  
It's always best when_ _the light is off  
It's always better on the outside  
Fifteen blows to the back of your head  
Fifteen blows to your mind  
  
So lock the kids up safe tonight  
Put the eyes in the cupboard  
I've got the smell of a local man  
Who's got the loneliest feeling  
  
That either way he turns  
I'll be there  
Open up your skull  
I'll be there  
  
Climbing up the walls  
Climbing up the walls  
Climbing up the walls_

~~

Author's notes: OooooOOooohh. Foreboding, ain't it? So what's Vinny to do now? Well, you'll have to wait until I get another three episodes of ICBW written. But hey! We're heading toward the climactic finale of The Gift! And who knows what will happen next?

*The first quote (_Exit light. Enter night._) was taken from Metallica. Rock on.

** The second full set of song lyrics is Radiohead's _Climbing Up the Walls_ from their 1997 OK Computer album. The best ever. Never to be topped (how sad, but true). This band has been like the theme band for The Gift. Their moods always match Vinny's. Go figure.

Thanks for reading! Comments and criticism welcome! Please review!


	14. Conversations Kill

The Gift

Episode 14: Conversations Kill

_By Sulia Serafine_

This is an ALTERNATE UNIVERSE fic. This is the sequel series to It Could Be Worse, which will end with season 4. NOTE: You can read it if you have not read ICBW. It's possible. You won't get the foreshadowing and the cameos, but you will, eventually. I'd explain them. Credit goes to Tamora Pierce. I'm broke, so you can't sue me. Any other copyrighted things that don't belong to me in here in fact belong to other very businesslike people. Could you believe that? I guess that's why I'm broke.

WARNING: This episode is rated R due to violence and Vinny's strong sense of nihilism.

I felt short on time. There was something else I needed to do before I effectively ended my life as Vinny Winston and became a nameless soldier of what looked like a long-lived conspiracy of manipulation and subversion. Only a day had passed. I had been given my own room in the dorm wing belonging to the Gray Men. Though my arm was still in a stiff splint and my ribs bandaged, I was now wearing the very uniform that had come to symbolize everything I had hated as a child.

Hey, if you can't beat them….

The bed was soft, at least. I lied down on it, flinging my uninjured arm over my eyes so as to block out the fluorescent glare that bothered me so much. There was no comfort in physical things. Not when my mind was plagued with uncertainty. What would they have me do from here? It is not as if I can use my skills in combat. All I can do is take a hit and recover quickly from it. And even that is not an instantaneous process.

My supposedly callous mind betrayed itself. As I scrunched my nose and screwed my eyes shut, I could still imagine inside my head all the things that I had left unresolved. My mother. Coram and Kimmy. Faleron. Yvenne. My father…

I lowered my arm from my face and glanced about the room for something to occupy myself with. These thoughts only made me despair, and I had no tolerance for mental anguish. I was going to work for the men I had despised. But I would be damned if I wasn't going to work on my own terms, completely in control of my mind as well as my body.

Pain shot through my abdomen as I slowly sat up. I held my breath for a few moments, waiting for the pain in my ribs to subside. There was a small table to my left, on which there was a single book. I steadied myself to start moving, knowing that it would cause me great labor just to cross the room.

However, I was deterred from my task when the door slid open, revealing someone I had not expected to see. Perhaps if my mind were not so distracted with pain, I would have foreseen his arrival. I forgot the book. Who needed a book when one had company to keep him entertained? This guy probably hated me—worse, he didn't understand me—but he ought to be worth some intellectual stimulation.

"Yo," I greeted.

Baker did not take too well to the slang. He gave me a funny look and entered, the door sliding shut behind him. He was not displaying his army fatigues, but the same gray uniform that I was wearing. Past his mostly emotionless expression, I could sense that he was feeling troubled by something. Feh. Whatever was troubling him could not be half as bad as what bothered _me._

"I had a dream last night," he told me. The way he spoke it to me thus made me think that he had never dreamt in his entire life and this happening had all been my fault. How coincidental that a patient of Styx has once again come to me to confess their dreams. All my life people have talked to me as if I liked to listen. I should start considering pretending to be deaf. Sign language isn't that hard to learn, is it?

I tilted my head to the side and studied him pensively. Might as well get my Dr. Joyce Brothers face on. Can't imitate Freud. Not obsessed with sex enough. "And what did you dream about?"

For some reason, I suddenly felt like I was in Session. Except, of course, I was not the patient receiving evaluation, but the one giving it. Perhaps I should induce Baker to lie down on a couch, or in this case my bed, while I got out a clipboard and made inane "mm-hmm" noises while he talked.

Nah. I am not _that_ cruel.

Baker paused before saying, "I dreamt that my comrades and I would die today."

My eyebrows rose. "Oh? Do you have a special mission to go on today that could possibly be fatal?"

"No. We are simply assigned to be here with the children, making them fear us."

Gee. The way he said it made it seem like the entire objective of a Gray Man's job was to make the children fear them. Considering all my childhood experiences with the orderlies, I wouldn't doubt that this was the truth. But honestly, how did they pick these guys? Which ones were sent to missions and which ones were assigned to stay behind at the hospital? I don't get it! Some of the guys assigned in my childhood were just happy to do the crossword on their lunch break!

"Tell me," Baker began, "about myself. When… I was a child."

His impassive face did not show any outward signs of eagerness, but it was not hard to tell that he desperately wished to know.

"You don't remember?"

"Nothing but my education," he replied, his eyes hinting at puzzlement.

I rubbed the back of my neck. What was there to say? Baker was this stoic kid who could glare at you until you were six feet underground. He wasn't talkative like Wally. I was somewhat surprised that he hung around us at all, when he could go off and be alone. But maybe he really had enjoyed our company. Strange thought, that.

"You helped me once," I volunteered. I couldn't think of anything else to say that was actually positive about him. "Your name was…_is…_ Baker. And you helped me set up for my big escape from this hell hole."

"Why didn't I leave with you?"

_Why didn't _anyone?

I shrugged it off. "You didn't seem to care enough to leave. You looked satisfied just doing as you were doing."

He seemed to be pondering over what I had said. I sighed. There was nothing else for me to say, really. Except… "Hey."

"Yes?"

"Do you know whatever happened to a kid named Wallace Matthews?" I sought my mind for a description. "Kind of neurotic, has the ability to control water." When that still didn't draw a response, I recited the one thing that would. "Patient 0556."

Baker thought for a moment. He nodded. "He was in a contingent sent overseas when he turned nineteen."

Nineteen? Wally was already nineteen? And Baker must have been the same age, or else he wouldn't be a Gray Man yet. I'm still on seventeen. Since when have _they_ been older than me? I could not have been the baby of the group! It doesn't matter much now. The only significance age has is telling me that I would still have had a year left in the hospital if I had never left. But sheesh… nineteen, huh? Sent overseas? Wait… for what?

I opened my mouth to ask him, but he was already shaking his head. He didn't know. And so it perpetuated the mystery.

He got up to leave. I wondered if anyone had known he was here visiting me. If they had, surely they would have called him away, perhaps punished him. Didn't they have cameras in my room? Perhaps not. Maybe they thought I was not worth the effort, since I had obviously given in and decided to become one of them. So maybe there's some hope after all.

Wait. Hope for what? What am I talking about?

I abandoned my original idea to read the book on the nearby table. Lying down again, I closed my eyes and decided another nap was in order. Sleeping would help me heal faster. Ow. Gods know I need to heal these bruised ribs as quickly as possible. I've never been more thankful for a fast healing body, but sometimes I wish the whole process were instantaneous. Then I could never feel pain! Hmm. Just a pretty thought.

The day went by. I was left in relative peace except for someone coming to deliver me lunch and dinner. I had to ask to go to the bathroom. A guard standing outside my room was charged with escorting me and waiting outside the bathroom. So they trust me enough to not have a camera in my room and enough to have a conversation with Baker, but not enough so that I can go to the toilet without escaping. What a load of crap! (No pun intended.)

After dinner, I felt my gift seize hold of me. It had been a long time since I'd had one. Being in this hospital has an effect on my gift, I think. But I felt it now, like a long lost friend.

_Ouch._ Yeah, a friend that causes migraines. I touched my temple and tried to focus on something in the room to anchor me down while the vision washed through my mind. There was a man whose face I could not see entering my room. He was not dressed like a killer, but he had a gun in his hand. Yeah, he had a gun in his hand like he was born with it. Now that's a truly scary thought.

And then, before I knew that my vision had ended, my door opened and he walked in.

"Whoa. That was fast," I muttered. I hadn't even worked out the details of what he was wearing or what type of gun he was holding. I stood up quickly, immediately regretting the action. I winced. At least I'd slept most of the day. It wasn't as painful as I thought it would be to stand up straight.

The man was dressed in a shirt and tie, with dark slacks and good leather shoes. Foreign made, I think. Man, I wish I looked that snazzy. All I had on was a gray uniform and a pair of sneakers. Putting aside the vain, pride-wounding fact that someone else looked better than me, I looked past the man into the hall outside. The guard that had been posted outside my door was slumped unconscious against the wall.

I cradled my injured arm to my chest as if I had to protect myself against him. "What do _you_ want?"

It should have been obvious. But back then, I was suspicious of everyone. And a random guy walking into a room with a gun leaving unconscious men in his wake isn't exactly the most normal thing you'll ever see.

"I'm here to get you out."

"Who sent you?" I asked, trying to move towards the door while still keeping the same distance between me and the stranger.

The man noted my injured state with calculating eyes. He looked up and met my gaze. "Yvenne and Faleron." He walked toward the door again and peered out into the hall. "It won't take them long to get here. Let's go."

"Wait!" I whispered loudly as we ducked out of the room and into the hall, staying close to the wall. I licked my dry lips, ignoring the bolts of pain racing up my ribs. My arm didn't feel too bad at least.  "What do I call you?"

"Just call me Li. Now shut up."

I figured that if he was simply using Yvenne and Faleron to trick me, it didn't matter. Nothing mattered. If I stayed in the hospital, I'd become my own worst enemy. If I was used by this man and whatever organization he worked for, it had to have been better than Styx. And if Faleron and Yvenne had really sent him, then I was bound to be in for a happy reunion with my annoying companions. I didn't have a preference as to which ending I'd feel better with. An ending's an ending—never mind if it's happy, right?

_I'm no Prince Charming._

There was a sound of many running footsteps approaching us. Li pushed me behind him and against the wall. He cocked his gun and waited for them to reach us. My heart was going a mile a minute. I wished I could be of some use. I feel like a sissy just standing here being rescued. It's not like I'm Snow White or anything. I'm blond, after all. Don't argue with me on that one.

"An even dozen," I suddenly said. I could make them out in my mind's eye a few seconds before they arrived around the corner. "There's an even dozen, but none of them are armed." I glanced around us. "They're coming at us from the hall along the cafeteria. Let's go down this way. We can get closer to the exit before they catch up."

Li nodded. Someone must have explained to him about my gift because he showed no hint of surprise at my information. We left around the next corner just as the Gray Men turned into the hall we were just in. There was a shout as they picked up speed. Li and I started running. My ribs hurt so much from the movement, but I didn't have much of a choice.

_Yes, I do. I can just give up and work for __Chiles__. At least I'll have some status among the freaks._

But for some reason, I just kept running.

Without any warning, Li grabbed a handful of my shirt and practically flung me ahead of him. He whirled around then and fired two shots at our pursuers. The gunshots were loud and they hurt my ears. I watched wide-eyed as the Gray Men broke formation to avoid being shot. Li continued to step backward, urging me to do the same as he kept his gun trained on them. But what happened next took us both by surprise.

A long plume of fire came straight at us.

"Get down!" Li yelled.

I didn't need to be told twice. I hit the floor and I flattened myself against it, biting my lip to stifle any scream of pain I was wanting to let out. Li fired off another shot, screaming something along the lines of "damn, fuckin' pyrokinetics." I couldn't concentrate. The heat was unbearable! The smaller hairs on the back of my neck must have been singed. They must have been! Man, that's hot! I dared to open my eyes, squinting through the intense heat.

"Baker…" I murmured, meeting the gaze of my former 'friend.' He stood as if the chaos around us did not exist. I knew he was thinking of his dream. That today would be the day that everyone died. I shook my head at him then, trying to tell him otherwise. He wouldn't die. I didn't foresee that! He was just a pawn, just like _I_ was a pawn! No one needed to die—

Except the one person who mattered.

The fire had ceased. Li had shot the Gray Man (former Styx patient, naturally) who had created the flame, in the leg so now the man was writhing on the floor. We scrambled to our feet and looked about for a direction to head in.

"Which way is the head office? Where are the ringleaders?" Li asked me, his eyes still locked on our enemies. He had gotten the same idea as I had. Kill the doctors. Kill Chiles, kill Ansil, kill them _all._ The bloodthirsty notion was all that set my mind at ease then.

I glanced to my left. "That way. The exit's that way, too." I looked again to Baker, who had decided to stand in front of his comrades like a fearless leader. He always looked like one anyway, if not a brooding boy. "Baker! We're ending this!" I called. _Please, gods, make him listen to reason…_ "It's over. Just tell them to let us go and I'll end all of it. And you won't have to be 0554 anymore. Just Baker."

He didn't show any signs of agreeing with me, but he and the other Gray Men stayed in place as we darted around the corner. The intensity of his emotionless gaze stayed with me as we fled. I could feel myself hurting all over from new and old aches, but with each step, we were getting closer to the end. I _wanted_ the end.

I stopped us in front of an office. It belonged to Chiles. Maybe the bastard was inside. It would be easy. Like fish in a barrel. Li looked to me for confirmation. I nodded and stepped aside. Li stepped forward and kicked open the door, brandishing his gun and charging inside. Unfortunately, no one was there. There were, however, numerous maps and numerous papers scattered all over the office. I went in after Li, scanning the papers.

"These are reports. From spies all over Mithros. He's sent them everywhere!"

"Get on his computer," Li commanded. "Make a copy of the files—anything incriminating. We need something to give to the DJPF."

I sat in the doctor's chair. As the computer started booting up, I turned and surveyed what papers were available to fold and stuff in my pockets. You would think that someone as evil as Chiles would have learned to use a filing system, but apparently not. Evil has no need for organization in this case, I suppose. Not that it matters. We were going to bring an end to it anyway.

"Someone's coming," I muttered. I could feel them approaching in my mind, like a tickle in my nerve endings starting to increase. I quickly scanned the file directory of the computer and discovered some key phrases that were sure to include choice information. What else could 'Baby Acquisitions in Tortall" and "Drug Experimentation" be? I copied the files and extracted the disk. I placed it in my pocket and nodded to Li.

We ran out of the office just in time to Ansil Groten and Doctor Chiles come toward us. Li looked to me again.

I nodded. _Yes, that's them._

He didn't need another signal. He raised his gun and shot both men perfectly in the heart. The movement was so quick. I had barely time to reflect on what had just happened. My body jerked twice like the bullets had hit me instead, though I had not intended on being so surprised by their deaths. As the bodies fell to the floor, everything became oddly quiet. I was neither frightened by Li's perfect marksmanship nor his silence. But there was something in the bodies themselves that refused to let me think it was over. But it was… wasn't it?

_It's never truly over. There will be more of them if we don't get this information to the authorities._

More reason to scram. I looked to Li, who simultaneously turned to me. There was a mixture of regret and something else in his expression. For someone I had just met, I somehow knew that this was a feeling he was not used to. I frowned.

"Don't tell Yvenne."

_That you killed people today?_

"Yeah, that," he replied irritably.

I blinked. "Wait, how did you—"

He grabbed me by my shirt again and dragged me towards the exit. Just as I expected, no one followed us. By then, Baker must have taken charge of the Gray Men and explained to them the end was drawing near. The private Apocalypse of Styx. I wonder what the children were thinking when they heard the gunshots. They would never have heard the sounds before. They must be full of imaginative ideas as to what was going on.

Oh, to be naïve again.

We were running down the steps of the hospital now and to his car. As soon as we were inside, he sped off. The squeal of tires and the skid marks on the asphalt made my happy. We were out of there. No question about it. I didn't bother asking myself how Li had gotten the gate open or how he had managed to get to my room undetected. Those things did not matter. Not for people like us who obviously had more secrets and talents than the world would ever know.

There was not a cloud in the sky. Several dark birds flew overhead. I could hear them squawking to one another, perhaps on their way to Baker, their bird whisperer. I resisted the urge to stick my head out the window like a dog and take in the scenery. Anything was better than four white walls and a stupid hospital bed. I wanted to go out and buy some new clothes. I couldn't wear this white uniform anywhere. It was the ugliest thing I had ever put on.

I glanced at Li, who still had the shirt, tie, and pressed slacks. Leather patent shoes, for crying out loud! He is _not_ allowed to look better than me!

I looked down at myself and remembered the contents of my jacket.

"When are we going to give this to the authorities?" I asked, gesturing to my stuffed pockets.

"We'll give it to your dad when we reach his house," Li replied distractedly, watching the road for any white vans belonging to the hospital.

I stared at him. "You know my dad?"

"Yeah. But we're going to pick up Yvenne and Faleron first, so get ready to say whatever it is you need to say to them before you make a reunion script for you and your pops."

There was an undertone of anger in his voice. It was obvious that he did not like my father. I was sure there was a good reason, too. After all, I've pissed off a lot of people in my life. It must be a family trait. And what was this about giving my father the evidence? Was he connected to the DJPF? But I thought he had worked for Yukishiro like the men at Bailey's had said. Oh no. My father was a lowly rat. He was an informant. That was it, wasn't it? Former bad guy lives under government protection because he rats out his former comrades to the DJPF.

_Damn._

"I told you to start thinking of your two chums, not your old man," Li scolded me.

I glared at him. "Would you mind staying out of my head?"

Li snorted. "You're more annoying than _he_ is. I didn't think it was possible. And considering the fact that I just broke you out, you'd better do as I say."

"Yeah, yeah," I grumbled. I looked for road signs. "Where are we anyway?"

"We're going to Irontown. Where else?"

Oh yeah. I had forgotten about that place. It was where I went after I first broke out of the hospital as a child. I had tried my best to mind my own business, but people couldn't help but stare at an unsupervised child going through stores and buying food. I tried to walk around with the air of someone who was merely passing through. Like one of those children who rode the public transportation system all the time to get to divorced and separated parents.

Irontown wasn't that bad of a place. Not too big. Not too small. Like a suburb without a big neighboring city. Just a little less than a city with even less problems. I could never live there. Not one my ego and my ambitions were too big. I needed Carthak. I needed Tortall. Hell, just take me to good old Tusaine. Now _that_ was the best city in the universe.

Li snorted derisively.

I glared at him. _I said 'stay out'!_

My mind eventually drifted back to my initially unwanted companions. Yvenne and Faleron. After this, Faleron would most definitely go home. His time with us would be up. He would be back in school, telling all sorts of stories to his classmates. And when he arrived home, he would be grounded, I bet. His parents and whoever else would be so very mad that he'd gone out and had a _life_ without their permission. The little kid was smart and he had spunk. He would go far in life if he could just learn to ditch the privilege he was born in.

Yvenne was a different story. She already had her own life. She'd had one long before I met her. She would have continued to have one without me had I never noticed her Carthak that one fateful day. When all of this was over, she would take root in Port Legann and start over. She expected to do some small work at first, under a fake high school diploma and whatever other credits I had forged for her. I think she'll end up as manager of some small fast food restaurant eventually. Then she'll have saved up money from her job and from whatever sports gambling she does to take night classes. And she'll be alright.

I glanced at my driver. He had said… "Don't tell Yvenne." Why? Why shouldn't I tell Yvenne that you killed two men today? And why does she matter that she shouldn't know? I suddenly remembered the dream I had had, the one where someone with dark hair and dark eyes was holding Yvenne's hand. I scrutinized Li. Dark hair, dark eyes. "Don't tell Yvenne," he had said. Don't tell her.

_What's she to you?_

"Why do you care?" he asked in a retort.

"I… I don't," I defended.

"Bullshit."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Hey, man—"

"You blondies are always full of shit," Li spat. He kept his eyes on the road, but I knew fire was burning in those dark eyes of his.  "Look, you either care, or you don't. If you don't care, then don't think about it. Just separate yourself from the whole situation. If you do, then stop _denying_ it. It's pathetic to listen to."

I didn't know if I cared or not. Back inside Styx, I thought I had been relieved to have her off my back. But then I had felt abandoned, because if Yvenne didn't care enough to help me, who would? But she had sent help. She'd sent this very disagreeable, volatile man right beside me. He hated me. He hated my father. And he obviously had a thing for Yvenne. I wonder what the hell had happened between the two of them while I was gone. It's not like twenty-four hour romances work out. We're not in a Shakespearian play, after all.

I laughed inwardly. _And Yvenne sure doesn't make a good Juliet._

Li then used his middle finger and his thumb to flick me hard on the back of my ear.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

They were waiting for us at a diner. Before we went inside, Li handed me a bundle of clothes. He would go in ahead of me and distract the two while I snuck into the bathroom to change. He must have read my mind. He knew my vanity. I couldn't let Yvenne and Fal see me in this disgusting white thing. They wouldn't stop making jokes about it for days. It was the last thing I should have been worrying about. I mean, my arm was still broken and we had just escaped something equivalent to an insane asylum. But the little things like this mattered. What else was there to enjoy, if not the stupid little details?

Life sucked so much. You needed to wring out every last drop and savor it before it all ended.

So I snuck into the bathroom.

It was a one toilet deal, so I locked the door behind me and hoped no one would be waiting. Didn't want to draw attention to myself, even if I was out of danger now. Nah. I was never out of danger. What a foolish thought. I looked at the dirty mirror in front of me and sneered. I looked horrible. My hair wasn't washed and hung limp. I looked around and spotted a bottle of liquid soap sitting on the sink. I stripped off the white uniform jacket and the shirt underneath, being careful of the splint on my arm. It wasn't so bad right now. I would be able to take off the splint in a week, I guessed, if my body remained just as freakish as it was seventeen years ago. But, it wouldn't be that bad of an idea to pick up some over-the-counter painkillers next.

I used the liquid hand soap and the sink to attempt to wash my hair. Then I took as many paper towels as I could and dried myself off. I ran the wet towels over my skin. Despite the fact that I had been locked up in a hospital, I still felt so dirty. There may have been sterilized objects everywhere and not a spec of dirt on the floor despite all the children that roamed there… but the place was just so intrinsically _dirty._ Not physically, but… you know. Excuse me if I'm not articulate while in the middle of hygiene routine.

I put on the clothing that Li gave me—and trust me, doing all of this more or less with one hand was proving to be quite the challenge. I examined the clothing I was given. A white dress shirt. I peered at the tag. Ah. The man may annoy the hell out of me, but he has taste. The jeans looked brand new. And even more astonishing was that they were a perfect fit. Li had done his research. Though how he had gotten this information, through Yvenne or otherwise, I didn't really care to know. I put my sneakers back on and looked at my reflection in the mirror. Yes, a little more presentable. Not my most dashing, but it would suffice.

Back in the dining area, Li was having a cup of coffee. He sat across from Yvenne and Faleron, who was eating a piece of pie. The boy was wearing a baseball cap. Both were wearing sunglasses. And instead of the usual plain ponytail, Yvenne had done up her hair in a very small bun. She spotted me as soon as I started making my approach.

"Vinny?"

Faleron gasped. "Vinny!"

The boy darted up from his chair and ran around the table. He almost knocked me over with the speed with which he ran at me. I let out a small 'oof' as we collided. My ribs still hurt, but the boy didn't need to know that. It would bring up too many questions that I didn't want to answer. He laughed in delight as I patted his back and worked up a weak smile.

"Hey, Squirt." I rested my hand on top of his soft hair. "Sorry we didn't get that ice cream."

He looked up at me with that familiar expression of hero worship. Whenever I needed an ego boost, I knew I could count on him. "That's alright. I know it wasn't your fault. We looked for you for so long! We were so worried!"

"Yes, are you okay?" Yvenne asked tightly. She remained seated with Li.

I walked up to the table, unlatching Faleron from my waist and nudging him to sit back down. I took the only seat left next to Li, who continued sipping his coffee as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. First he upstaged me in dress and now he upstages me in the 'cool demeanor' area, too. I really didn't like this guy.

"Yeah. They broke my arm and stuff, but I'm fine," I shrugged.

"Your arm?! We have to go to a hospital then!"

"No!" Li and I protested at the same time. We glanced at each other in irritation.

I shook my head. "No. No hospital. It's not as bad as you think. I'll be fine." I licked my lips nervously. "Listen, Yvenne. Can we talk? In private?"

She frowned at me, glancing back and forth from me, Liam, and Fal. She nodded, very confused. "If you want. Excuse us for a second, guys."

She got up and followed me outside of the diner. I looked around just to make sure there were no white vans. You never know. They might still be after me. Though after killing Chiles and Groten, and Baker taking charge, I had little doubt that things were over for Styx. I leaned against a nearby handicapped parking sign and waited for Yvenne to get comfortable. She decided to sit on a bench just outside the diner's door. The glowing "OPEN" sign for the diner was flickering on and off above her head.

"So what's the deal with this Li guy? How do you know him?" I asked.

Then Yvenne told me about being put in a holding cell for the night after Neal had recognized Faleron at the DJPF station. She described the things that Li had told her about himself, or at least, what he was willing to reveal. The way she spoke about him made it seem as if she trusted him completely. Weird. If someone told me that he'd killed quite a few people for a living, I'd have walked away rather than kissed him. I told Yvenne that with a disapproving look in my eyes.

"What do you know anyways?" she huffed.

I rolled my eyes. "It's not like you'll see him after today anyway."

"Actually, he's coming with me to Port Legann."

_Hold up…_

"_What_?" I exclaimed.

The former bookie tried to maintain a look of holier-than-thou dignity that did not suit her. She folded her arms across her chest and glared at me defiantly. "After all of this is over, I'm going to Port Legann and Li is coming with me."

"You do know what this man does for a living, right?"

"That's _used to do_—and yes, I do. That doesn't matter. I trust him, even if you aren't capable of imagining it."

Women are ruled by their emotions. I know I don't have the experience to say it, but just take a damn look! My mother! Yvenne! The only level-headed woman I have ever met must have been Kalasin… and she's a freaking _spy_! Oh man, is this aggravating. I don't know what sort of logic Yvenne was using, but it didn't make any sense. This is exactly the reason why I have never liked to get involved with women. Ever. They're just too… gah! Screw it!

I ground my teeth. "But you don't love him, Yvenne."

"Not yet."

"You…" I tried to stifle my anger. "You love _me._ I know you do. That thing back with the beauty pageant… that kind of stuff just doesn't fade away that fast!"

She glared at me. "So?"

_Oh my gods, I'm in the Twilight Zone._

"So?! _So!_ So you're in love with me! And you're admitting it! Why are you going to Port Legann with him?"

Yvenne laughed bitterly. "Because you don't know what love is, Vinny. I may love you, but you don't know what it is to love! And he does! And you could never learn to love like that because you still think that the world is one giant problem that you have to put up with!" She threw up her hands in the air in frustration. "Damn it, Vinny! The only reason you don't want me to go with him isn't because you're jealous. Being jealous would imply that you really care." She pointed at me accusingly, her eyes narrowing. "The real reason that you're reacting this way is because you're possessive. You're proud, you're vain, and you're possessive. The only reason you want me around is because you know I love you and it makes you feel good, even if you could never love me back. Even if you don't want me, you don't want anyone else to have me."

_ Holy shit. I'm going to die a virgin._

"Yvenne…"

"Save it. Besides, Li warned me about the men in your family. You're all a bunch of deceivers who can't relate to people without hurting them first."

And the sad part is, I didn't feel that offended. It actually sounded pretty accurate.

"We'll be friends always, Vinny. But that's it," she whispered.

I nodded dumbly. She was right. That was it. But oooohh, if the truth didn't piss me off so much!

I don't know what love is.

_I don't know what love is? What the fuck?_

This was _not_ my day.  I stifled all my rage and all my disappointment and—oh gods, why couldn't I feel any _hurt_?—and shoved it all down to a place where I would never have to feel it again. I couldn't handle something like this. Not with so many other things to worry about.

We went back inside. Faleron seemed to be chatting up a storm, but Li wasn't listening. He shot me a dark look before gazing concernedly at Yvenne. Faleron finished his pie and Li left money for the bill and a tip for the waitress. We left the diner in silence. I could tell that Yvenne was still sulking over our conversation. Liam was brooding about me and my crudeness, most likely. And Faleron seemed wise enough to know not to bother any of us. As we got into the car, Li turned to the back seat where Faleron and Yvenne were.

"Hey, Fal, do you know the way to your Aunt Kel's? We have to pass something onto her, some stuff we picked up," he said, glancing at my balled up jacket with the documents still inside.

I groaned. "Don't tell me he has more relatives that are in the DJPF."

Fal nodded. "Yeah, I know the way. And she's not my real aunt. Just my godmother."

"Oh. Of course. Excuse me. Godmother."

"Can the sarcasm," Yvenne told me, rolling her eyes. Well, she got over our little heart-to-heart in a flash. Hmph. Women.

Li began to back out of the parking space. I spoke up. "So what about my father? I thought you said we were going to see him."

"We're going to see Kel," he said in a voice that booked no arguments. I should have known better than to say anything at all.

_'I've hated three generations of your family now,'_ a voice said inside my head. It sounded like Li. I glanced over at the man driving. Like before, he kept his eyes on the road. It must have been him. _No, _I thought cynically. _It's God. _I slumped further down into my seat and looked wearily out the window.

_What does that matter to me?_ I replied to him mentally.

_'Just thought you should know. I think you're a giant family of self-martyring assholes.'_

_Thank you,_ I replied mentally. I took it as a compliment.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Author's note:

Hey guys!

Well, we're finally here. The next episode will be the very last of The Gift. It won't be posted until after the ICBW series ends after ICBW4: Episode 12. So I really hope you've enjoyed yourself so far! Vinny has to be one of my favorite characters to write. He's so arrogant sometimes, concerned with his looks and his wit… at other times, he completely loathes himself and everything he is. But he just can't help it. Loves and hates himself, like a lot of us do. I'm really going to miss writing about him.

Remember to review, kiddies! And I'll see you again soon in the next episode!

Sulia S.


	15. Son of a Man, Part II

The Gift

Episode 15: Son of a Man, Part II

_By Sulia Serafine_

This is an ALTERNATE UNIVERSE fic. This is the sequel series to It Could Be Worse, which will end with season 4. NOTE: You can read it if you have not read ICBW. It's possible. You won't get the foreshadowing and the cameos, but you will, eventually. I'd explain them. Credit goes to Tamora Pierce. I'm broke, so you can't sue me. Any other copyrighted things that don't belong to me in here in fact belong to other very businesslike people. Could you believe that? I guess that's why I'm broke.

Author: T'is the end of my fanfiction, droogies. Horrowshow time, it was—but this devotchka is done and tired.

Life is a right uppercut to the jaw from a heavyweight champion.

Astoundingly painful and unexpected, that is.

As it was, I was currently seated in the passenger side of a car on the way to the house of Fal's Auntie Kel. Faleron was talking up a storm to Yvenne about his godmother. Apparently, she'd had one hell of a career in the DJPF. Famous criminals and scandals… and a brief stint in a foreign country doing a search and rescue. The last part had been told to him by his Uncle Cleon, so he wasn't too sure about its credibility. After all, who ever heard of a lost civilization in the mountains? The woman sounded interesting enough. I only hoped that her temperament was fair. I know I would be a trifle suspicious if my godson showed up on my doorstep with three strangers and a file full of conspiracy information.

My mind began to wander. I was still very pissed off at Yvenne, more so than Li. I didn't like the man, but he hadn't pursued my affections, had he? And Yvenne had and changed her mind. Alright, maybe I didn't love her, but I must have cared enough if I was still feeling so offended by the rejection! Was I not handsome enough? Did I not present a caring side when I actually bothered to look after Faleron? I didn't bother to glance behind me at her, though I snuck a glance in the side mirror.

"You said you knew my father," I began suddenly, to take my mind off my wounded pride. I turned to face Li's profile.

He drove with one hand on the wheel and his other elbow at the window. Li did not turn his head. Only his eyes, regarding me form the corner of his scope of vision. "I did."

"You knew him well?"

Li shrugged. "Like family, I guess you could say. A… stepbrother of sorts."

"You knew him in his heyday of gangster activity, didn't you? When he met my mother?" I knew I was pressing my luck, but it didn't hurt to try.

_You don't want to walk this road so publicly, boy,_ Li's voice warned me in my head. I noticed that Yvenne and Faleron were starting to sit up and pay attention to what we were speaking about. I backed off and leaned against my door, temple pressed on the window. After they saw our conversation trail off, Yvenne and Faleron relaxed. They seemed a little disappointed, as if they wanted to hear the juicy details despite their supposed respect for privacy.

_How old are you?_ I asked without turning to look at my driver.

Li smirked. _How old do you think I am?_

_Old enough to be my father, I think. And Yvenne's, too. But you look so young._

There was a strange sound inside my head. After a moment, I realized that Li was inwardly laughing. Perhaps I had struck upon an old memory of his, a secret that was more ridiculous than it was damning.

_At least I look younger than your father. Rightfully, I'm just a bit older._

I wanted to ask how it was possible that Li could look so young, but I knew he would not give me an answer. Then he would lose his captivating mystery. He would become another oddity in my life—and I'd known enough oddities and abnormalities at Styx to last me a lifetime. Whatever Li was, he was still helping me against his will. Key word: helping. He had broken me out of my own personal hell. He'd shot my antagonists and unwittingly set free my fellow prisoners.

Now if only I could get over the fact that he looked better than me.

_You just need to get a nice set of clothes,_ Li mentally chirped from beside me.

I countered by sending a barrage of images showing where Li could shove his 'nice set of clothes.' Prat.

Five minutes later, I felt small arms hug my neck from behind my chair. I patted Faleron's elbow absently, my eyes still glued to the passing scenery. The boy was starting to get anxious the closer we came to his godmother's home. We would be parted when we got there. The boy had escaped his family for as long as he was going to. When his Auntie Kel saw him, she was going to send him home forthwith and that would be the last I would ever see of him.

I closed my eyes and let the boy's anxiety flow into me. I closed an invisible fist around it and squeezed. Like a coal into a diamond, I transformed it until I saw something so much better than what I had received. I could see his best future, the best of all the possibilities. And more than that, I knew it would certainly be the particular future to come true. I just knew this was his.

Faleron was suddenly eighteen, and graduating from a special institution. Dominion Jewel Protection Force Academy, I realized. There was a short, but powerful looking older woman shaking his hand. She was Buriram Tourakom a Director of one of the Federal Investigation Departments. She was offering him a job, straight out of the Academy—a credit to his remarkable tactile skills and his ability to read and evaluate situations within the blink of an eye. He was the most intelligent one in his class. And he could have cared less that his entire family with the exception of him was now rather absorbed in politics. His father was even running for mayor of Tusaine. Eighteen year-old Faleron Jasson was more or less annoyed, but happy at his own independence from the family tradition.

_Not too shabby. Not too shabby at all._

"You're going to be just fine," I whispered to Fal. His arms squeezed once before letting go. And then…

_Holy shit… _When his arms left me, it came to my attention what I had just done. Unlike the other times when I had only hoped that my gift would work, here I had commanded it on my own. I had willed myself to envision exactly what time and person I wished to see. And I had done it. I had complete control. I had complete control! _Holy shit!_

"It's about damn time," I heard Li mutter. I shot him a dirty look.

"What?" Yvenne piped up from behind.

I turned and shook my head. "Nothing." I paused. I could celebrate my superiority later. Maybe this would be a good time to… "Hey, Yvenne?"

"What now?"

"I'm sorry. About dragging you into this from the beginning."

Okay. So apologizing hadn't hurt as much as I thought it would have. At least I wasn't blushing. And at least she wasn't rubbing my nose into it. She actually appeared very pleased that I had finally lowered myself to a more respectable human level. We were friends, weren't we? A stupid thing like what we had argued about couldn't tear us apart, could it? I didn't expect her to accept my apology. But she did.

"I forgive you," she said, smiling from ear to ear. She made it look so easy.

I'm never going to get the hang of this friendship thing. Faleron laughed gleefully. He always hated it when we argued. Our happy little family was ten minutes away from being split apart forever. And we had finally started to come to an understanding. I frowned. I lifted my gaze to Yvenne. If I could pinpoint Faleron's future among a million possibilities, surely I could see what would happen to her.

I could always stop her if it didn't look too favorable. Steer her clear from Port Legann and Li. Even if Li was now super-protective suitor guy and would most likely pound me into the ground for it. I wouldn't let her go with him if I saw that it would be bad for her. I could be a cool guy like that.

My mind cleared. She was sitting at a window, overlooking a large green valley. There were gigantic mountains on every side. The sheep were roaming below. Yvenne herself was in a crimson dress with a low square neckline. A garnet and gold satin sash was tied around her hips below her bulging belly. One manicured hand rested comfortably on her tummy as she began to hum to herself. She was a bit older, perhaps closer to thirty. The room she was in was well furnished. There were voluminous drapes and velveteen rugs and so many other things that looked like they cost a fortune.

The heavy oak door opened. Li walked in, looking not a day older than how he appeared beside me in the car. He was dressed differently as well. He was wearing a long white muslin shirt and a wide leather belt. The belt buckle was made of gold. His boots came knee high and were polished black. He still looked smashing in whatever he wore (I feared he always would) and completed the suave image by swaggering forward. He bent down to kiss Yvenne once on the forehead and once on her belly.

I noticeably blanched and shut my eyes.

_Are you pissed about the baby?_ Li asked me. He sounded concerned. Strange. I was starting to get used to his voice in my head. It would be a shame when we had to part as well. I resented him, but I felt kinship with him as well. He could read my mind. And I could see the future. We were peas in a mutant pod.

I leaned my head back against the window and ran my hands over my face in a tired gesture. _No. I'm not pissed about the baby. The cool boots, maybe. The baby, no. She looks happy with the baby._

Li cast me a sidelong glance. _She'd be happier with you._

_Yeah, but I don't want to walk down that road either. Could you ever imagine _me_ changing diapers and driving the kids' carpool? Don't think so._ My self defense was denial. I didn't want to make anyone happy. I wanted to make myself happy. There's only one life to live here and I'm going to live it sans discomfort.  Even if it meant letting her go. (I don't know what love means? _What?!_)I pouted. _Come to think of it, how come I don't sense any of that discomfort for you? Where was that place, the one with the valley and the nice room? It looked like paradise._

_You'll see it soon enough._

He cut me off after that. He exited my mind and placed a block in front of the door so that I could not follow him out and into his brain. I was irritated at first at his dodging, but then I recalled my earlier wish to keep him mysterious. Yes, the mysterious Li would look so much nicer in my memoirs than Mr. Li who has a cushy office job and a gambling girlfriend.

It was the longest ten minutes of my life. But we finally pulled up to a community of houses separated by large yards and many trees. I was surprised when we passed by what looked like at first the neighborhood community center. I expected a couple of tennis courts and a swank swimming pool. There was a pool alright. But there was also a large looping dirt track and a row of motorbikes against the metal fence.

Huh.

"Auntie Kel promised to teach me how to ride one of those for my next birthday," Faleron commented when he saw the motorbikes. "One of the smaller ones."

"You couldn't get me on one of those things," Yvenne snorted. She directed her attention back to the road. "Now where is her house?"

"It's the blue one at the end. There's a stone wall around the yard."

We pulled into a long driveway and got out of the car. There was a woman at the side of the house coiling a green garden hose. When she saw them pull up, she took off her gardening gloves and set them down by the hose. Faleron grinned as soon as he saw her.

"Hi, Auntie! I'm glad we caught you on your day off. I bet Uncle Neal has already told you about me. I've come to turn myself in!" Faleron cheerily announced. "Oh, and we have some really important information that you have to see, too.

And with that, the boy bounded into the arms of his godmother, whose face was blank with shock and surprise. The woman was in her mid thirties, looking a decade younger just because of the vitality that radiated from her. Her light brown hair was short and wavy, a little messy from gardening. Her hazel eyes shone bright in a face slightly tan from working in the sun. Her body was of an athletic build—not bulky, but slim and solid. She brushed off her denim overalls, knelt down, and pulled Faleron close, scolding him lightly about having run off like he did.

"Guys! Come on, I want to introduce you to my auntie!"

We three remaining strangers tried our best not to look like evil intruders or child abductors as we came close. Apparently, we failed, for Kel stood up and scowled. Hers was a face not meant for scowling, but I felt nervous anyway. Women were tigers when provoked. If there's one thing I've learned on this journey, it's not to mess with them when they bare their teeth.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded harshly.

I blinked. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but we can explain—"

"She's talking to me," Li interrupted, pushing me back so as to put the safety of space between us and Kel. He turned to the woman with an air of exasperation and put on his best smile. It was obviously faked politeness. "Hello, Kel. You look stunning as always."

"And you haven't changed one bit," Kel replied, glaring at Li with a ferocity such as I have never seen in a woman (even Yvenne, and that's saying something, folks). She folded her arms across her chest and studied him from head to toe. "What are you doing here with my godson, Liam?"

"I'm not here with just your godson, but I'll get to that later. This is for you." And with that, he handed her the folder and the disks that we had stolen from Styx. She gave him a doubtful look, but took the materials into her possession.

Yvenne sputtered. "B-but… But… I thought your name was Li!"

As did I. I knew the man was a liar. Maybe the future I saw wouldn't come to pass after all, her and Li and the baby. Yvenne looked mighty annoyed for a single lie. He'd have to make it up to her after this whole thing was over. Arrive on her doorstep in Port Legann with a dozen long stem roses or something of the sort. I bet she'd fall for something like that. She secretly likes feminine things, and is bound to forgive a lie.

"Li is short for Liam. So it's not necessarily a lie." With the last sentence, he turned his vexed gaze toward me. I shrugged indifferently. Yvenne huffed and looked away.

Kel frowned. "Whatever. Liam, what are these for?"

"Just look at them would you? Honestly. It's as if you don't trust me anymore," Li_am_ scoffed.

"I don't trust you."

"Well, break my heart into a billion pieces if you think you can, but does it look like I _care_ anymore?"

"You'll always be a two-faced asshole. I can't believe how naïve I used to be," Keladry muttered as she opened the folder and began scanning the documents. Her brow was creased in concentration. Liam yawned and put his hands on his hips. After a time, she looked up again, her eyes a little wider in disbelief. She stared straight at Liam, who only smiled mischievously and blew her a kiss.

"So you'll pass it along, dearest?" His sarcasm in the face of certain-death-by-angry-woman was admirable. Maybe I was right about that kinship thing.

"I have to. You know how important this is," she replied. She sighed and finally turned her attention to Yvenne and me. "And who are these two?"

Faleron jumped at the chance to get back into the conversation. "This is Yvenne and this is Vinny! They're my best friends. We've had loads of fun together and Vinny even won me a stuffed Coldfang at an amusement park!"

"I wonder what she'll say when he mentions that you taught him how to be a miniature con artist," Yvenne mumbled just loudly enough for me to hear. I withheld the urge to retaliate. Minx.

Kel rolled her eyes. "Alright, alright. Come inside, all of you. I'll fax this to the station in Tusaine as soon as possible. Though I respect the local branch here in Irontown, I'm more confident that the main branch will get the investigation right."

"You might also want to call in a unit to go back to the scene before the suspects decide to scatter. I can give directions," Liam volunteered, looking smug as he did so. Both Keladry and I glared at him bitterly.

We followed Kel into the house. It was a one story home with a lot of floor space. I figured she must have been of high rank in the DJPF, for the house was furnished quite well. Only a salary of someone no lower than First Class could keep up the appearances in such a pleasant looking place. No, I take that back. The house was a little too big for just one salary to support it. I glanced at Kel's hand. Sure enough, there was a simple gold wedding band.

There was noise from down the hall as we entered the living room and sat down. Faleron grinned. He went toward the opening of the hall just in time to collide with two children not too much smaller than he. The taller one was a boy, the other a girl. They giggled and pushed each other as they battled to hug Faleron first. Finally, they just settled for hugging him at the same time. Faleron looked delighted.

"They're so cute!" Yvenne gasped to Kel. "How old are they?"

Though we were still strangers, Kel's pride in her children made her happy to share the information. "Conal is seven and Celeste is six."

Liam smiled. He crouched down and caught the children's attention. "Hello, Conal. Do you remember me?"

The boy was a towheaded child with pale skin and pale eyes. He smiled slightly and nodded. "Hi, Uncle."

Keladry came forward at once and picked Conal up. She balanced him on her hip as Liam rose. She glared at him. There was unadulterated terror in her eyes. "And when have you ever seen him before? I thought you didn't live in Mithros anymore."

"I don't," Liam confessed. "But I was visiting Tusaine on one of the days that your husband was there at the hospital getting Conal his vaccinations. Funny. He didn't have any problem introducing me to him. Not like you."

The last bit threw her off a bit. I could tell. People tend to get the deer-caught-in-the-headlights expression when it happens. Quite attractive. Not.

Faleron was desperately trying to unlatch Celeste's arms from around his leg. The little girl took after her mother in all features except her more aristocratic nose. It actually reminded me of someone, but I couldn't remember who. Hmm. "Hey, Auntie Kel, when is Uncle Joren going to be home?"

"I don't know. An hour maybe," Kel said absently. She put Conal down and went to the kitchen saying that she would fix them something to eat. Liam sat down on the couch beside Yvenne and held his arms out. Conal smiled and climbed onto his knee without any reservations. Yvenne made an awed sound. She was so easy to reel in sometimes. It was adorable, I agree, but I don't think it was that adorable. I don't care what Liam says. If Yvenne wanted a kid eventually, she'd be better off with him than me.

Liam observed me from the corner of his eyes. "Aren't you excited? It'll only be an hour."

"Why should I be?"

The hired killer with a child on his knee and a young woman against his side seemed a little confused. _I thought you knew._

_Knew what? _I asked irritably. _It's not like I can go inside your head and find these things out. You can only invade mine, jackass._ _Now why the hell should I care about Kel's husband?_

Liam's expression became more serious. Gone was the cynicism and mischief and back was the grave faced killer who seemed—could it be?—more than a little worried. He continued to put forth a cheerful front around Kel's children, Faleron, and Yvenne. I could still tell that something was plaguing him. Something to do with this Joren that he refused to talk about. I sighed wearily. I wasn't going to get any answers.

I decided to damn it all. I would continue to exercise my Gift by using it right now to discover what (or specifically, _who_) had my dismal rescuer so spooked.

_Here goes—_

Liam gave a little gasp. His eyes widened and he glared at me hard. _CRAP! _I screamed inside. At once, I felt like he had fired a gun at my head. There was a pain that went straight through my skull, into my brain, and out the back of my head. Bang. Just like that. I cried out instantly, my eyes screwed shut. All I could see was red. I stumbled backward and tripped over an armchair, tumbling over and backward, feet over head, to the floor. Pain lanced up my arm and renewed the healing pain in my ribs. Yvenne rushed to me immediately, though I could not have cared less. I lied on my side, groaning.

_What the… _I looked blearily up at Liam on the couch with Conal still on his knee. He looked surprised at himself, a little panic stricken. For all his cool and collected attitude, I was sure that he had not meant to attack me with such a force. What he had done, he'd done on instinct. Frightened instinct.

"Vince, are you okay? Vinny, talk to me!" Yvenne shrieked. I must have looked like road kill.

Faleron was at my head now, looking down into my face. I waved him away and, groaning again, rolled onto my back. My head throbbed, my arm hurt, and all I wanted was some painkillers.

_What the hell was that for?_

At least Liam looked guilty. _It was a hasty reaction. Forgive me. But you cannot look into the past of someone you've never met before. You would not have much control over what you would see—and I fear that it would be too gruesome and blood-splattered for you to handle. Trust me, I was there._

_Thanks for the migraine, then. Ugh, you owe me, man._

He smiled at me. I rolled my eyes and sat up. The sudden movement made my head spin and my ribs ache. I must have moaned, because Yvenne urged me to lie back down. I was not used to being fussed over. She checked my splinted arm and my other bruises. I let her. I was in such bad shape. If I had been a horse, someone would have shot me and put me out of my misery. Sheesh, I was an eyesore.

Keladry came back into the room, having heard my cry. She saw me on the floor and immediately shot a dirty look at Liam. "What did you do to him?"

Whoa. How did she know?

"I didn't do anything to him. The young man is a little clumsy now and then. He just aggravated his current injuries," Liam protested. He winked at me, the wink hidden from Kel's view by Conal clinging to Liam's neck.

Yvenne helped me eventually sit up. She and Faleron got me back on my feet and onto the armchair that I had just fallen over. Meanwhile, Kel was still scrutinizing me as if she'd just noticed something. My head hurt too much. If it didn't, I would have tried to pry my way into her thoughts. If Liam could do it, why couldn't I? I was always evolving, wasn't I? Revealing new powers and such? Ow, ow, ow. Oh, _man,_ I needed some aspirin.

"Have we met before?"

"No," I replied, gingerly touching the back of my head. Definitely felt like someone had broken a beer bottle on it. I half expected a lump the size of a fist there on the back of my noggin.

"Are you sure?"

I frowned at the woman. I would have shaken my head 'no' if I didn't think that doing so would cause me to topple over again out of disorientation. "No, ma'am. We've never met."

Liam smiled sneakily as he set Conal back on his feet and whispered something in his ear. The little boy giggled and put his hands over his mouth. _What did Liam say?_ I wondered. Conal ran past Yvenne and his mother to me. He climbed onto my lap. Utterly confused, I didn't stop him. When he was perched atop my knee, he reached forward and gently pinched my nose. Then, using his other hand, he pinched his.

"Conal, let go of this nice young man's nose—" Faleron reproached softly. Liam laughed in the background.

_What's the big idea?_ I shot at my fellow freak.

_Just wait for it._

Kel gasped, startling Yvenne beside her. She looked back and forth from her son to me. What? Did I have something stuck in my teeth?

Conal let go of my nose and stood up on the armchair. He leaned over and giggled again as he started playing with my hair. At first, I felt very indignant at having someone even _touch_ my hair without my permission, but he was only a little boy. And besides, there was something about him that felt… familiar. Maybe Yvenne was right. I had a fatherly instinct of some kind, first with Faleron and now with Conal. Huh. But I don't want kids. These two just happen to be… different.

In the meantime, Faleron had given up on detaching his little godsister's arms from around his leg. He let her cling to him, attempting to appear more adult and mature than he ever could have looked. One small fry hanging onto another small fry.

"I'm going to call Joren…" Kel started. She licked her lips nervously. "And I have to fax those papers and call the local station. Liam, come here and give me the directions." Before he could reply, she retreated to the kitchen.

Liam sighed and got up. He rubbed Yvenne's arm as he went by. Yvenne herself was still thoroughly bewildered by everything that was going on around her. She sat down in Liam's spot on the couch. Faleron joined her slowly, cajoling Celeste to move with him to a seat. If I had been another person, maybe a father, I would have considered the scene cute. At the moment, I was somewhat irritated.

Conal had finished playing with my hair. In comparison, his was even lighter than mine. Normal, I guess. Kids' hair darkens as they grow older, doesn't it? I studied him intently as he sat back down on my knee and returned my scrutinizing gaze. Weird. It was like looking into an adult's eyes. Unblinking, cold blue eyes. This continued for a few moments before I snapped out of it and looked away. From inside the kitchen, I could hear Liam whistling.

"Maybe Uncle Joren won't call my parents so quickly and I can stay here a bit longer," Faleron thought aloud.

Yvenne stroked his hair. "That would be nice, I guess. I wish I could stay longer, but I'd like to get to my new place in Port Legann."

I wanted to tell her that she wouldn't end up in Port Legann for long, but there was no sense in freaking her out on our last day together.

"My name is Conal," the boy on my lap whispered.

I'd almost forgotten he was there. I turned to him and smiled slightly. "I'm Vinny."

"Are you gonna stay with us?"

Stay? Why in the world would I stay? "I don't think so, little man. I have to go home, too."

"Where's your home?"

_In a loony bin._

"I don't know yet," I chuckled to hide my discomfiture. "But that's what I need to find out."

"I want you to live in the other room," Conal insisted, tugging my hand. I suppose he was referring to the guest bedroom. He beamed at me.

Yvenne made another cooing sound. "How cute!"

"Don't start," I warned her. I was not in the mood for her "You'd make such a good father!" speeches.

Kel and Liam reentered the room, the former quite bothered. She stopped in her tracks when her eyes rested on me and Conal sitting together. Liam laid a hand on her arm and whispered something into her ear as well. She broke her gaze and nodded to him. They continued into the living room.

_What exactly are you telling this family?_ I asked.

_Nothing, nothing. My old _buddy _will be here in a few minutes, so just sit tight._

_It's hard to when you won't tell me anything!_

_Well, I'm a little flabbergasted that you haven't figured it out yourself._

For the next ten minutes, we made idle chitchat. Faleron recounted the majority of our adventures, though he wisely neglected the latest kidnap and rescue ordeal. Kel voiced her opinion on Cleon's decision to let us go. Unlike Neal, she also seemed to understand that there were other factors involved that could have justified his decision. She also apologized for Neal's roughness, arresting Yvenne and all. Apparently the whole law enforcement community of northeastern Mithros was involved with each other as one giant family.

What a scary thought. Maybe I should go back to Carthak after all.

At last, I heard a noise outside. It sounded like a motorcycle. Kel was on her feet in an instant. She went to the front door and opened it as quickly as she could, running outside to whoever had just arrived. Liam began to grin. What the hell was he grinning about? Figure it out for myself, huh? Can't he tell that I'm a little distracted right now? I couldn't figure anything out even if I wanted to. I winced as Conal accidentally bumped into one of my tender ribs.

"Who is that?" Yvenne asked no one in particular.

"Must be Uncle Joren," Faleron guessed. He turned to Celeste. "Hey, Celeste! Your dad's home! Want to let go of my leg and go see him?"

The little girl gave a squeal of delight as she ran out the door after her mother. Faleron rubbed his leg and released a sigh of relief.

After a few moments, Kel came back into the house with Celeste balanced on her hip. She pressed her cheek against her daughter's forehead as she continued to speak quietly to the person following her. Liam started to laugh a little crazily, earning himself wary looks from both Yvenne and Faleron. I made a mental reminder to smack him at least once before he left. His secretiveness was really starting to get on my nerves.

A man only a few years older than Kel walked in. His almost white blond hair was a little long though perfectly straight, brushing over his eyebrows and covering the tops of his ears. His blue eyes matched Conal's, though in an adult's face, they gave the illusion of being more ominous and foreboding. It was easy to see that Celeste got her nose from her father. He had a regal, but dark look about him, despite the ghostly pale skin, that probably made strangers pee in their pants. And his mouth… His pale lips looked like they did not like to smile.

I'd seen him before.

And apparently, the feeling was mutual. He halted his steps just as his wife had done before. He stared at me, unmoving for several moments. A shiver went up my spine. I gulped and unconsciously tightened my hold around Conal. The pain in my ribs was forgotten and disappeared.

"Hey, Joren. Brought you a present," Liam almost sang tauntingly. "Do you like it? I could always take it back and ask Dad for a better model." What the hell? Was he talking about me?

_"Never tried, never tested, but strong."_

Where the hell did _that_ come from?!

"Don't fuck around with me, Irons. Is this for real or not?" Joren demanded. His voice almost made me jump.

"Joren!" Kel hissed. She gestured to the children, upset that he'd cursed around them. She sighed. "Hey, kids, come with me into the kitchen. Yvenne? Fal? Would you two like something to eat?"

They followed her without protest. Joren touched his wife's back as she passed by, a small gesture of affection that struck a chord within me for whatever reason. Yvenne gave me an encouraging look, urging me to be brave. I didn't know what I needed to be brave for. The man seemed menacing, but I didn't think he would actually hurt me. I just met him for crying out loud! Though… sheesh… I know I've seen him somewhere else before.

_You're really dense today, aren't you? The pain clouding your mind, boy?_

I glared at Liam. He now had his feet up on the coffee table, ankle crossed over ankle, while he spread his arms out along the top of the couch. Smug bastard.

"What's your name?" Joren asked me. He set his motorcycle helmet down on the table and stared me down. His hard appearance of leather jacket and black jeans intimidated me. It was an alien feeling, this intimidation. It made my mouth dry and squeezed my intestines in a vise.

"I'm Vinny."

"Coram Vincent Winston," Liam elaborated, winking in my direction. That's it. Definitely punching his lights out before he leaves.

Joren exhaled deeply. His gaze faltered for a moment. For a brief second, I saw a flicker of remorse wash over his face.

_Liam, is he…?_

_I told you I was taking you to your father's house, oh ye of little faith._

"Hello, son."

…

I don't believe in fairy tales. I don't believe in gods. I don't believe in fate. But there's a heaven and there's a hell.

"H-hi."

This was one fucked up version of heaven.

But good first impression, don't you think?

"Is Dad here?" Joren asked Liam hoarsely.

Liam shook his head. "No. He went back home before someone saw him and reported him to the DJPF." He shrugged. "But he did ask me to tell you to come visit him sometime. When the kids are a little older. We're in need of a giant family reunion, don't you think?" Liam stood up. "Well, I'm going to see what Keladry's cooked in the kitchen. After so many years, Joren, I hope she's finally learned how to cook. When I dated her and snogged her senseless, she preferred to eat out."

"Would you leave so I could talk to him?" Joren yelled, very peeved. I made a mental note to inquire about the 'dating Kel' bit from Faleron later on.

I stood up as Liam exited, still whistling and strutting like always. Jeez, it looked like Yvenne would have her arms full with that guy. I wished my arm wasn't in a sling. I probably looked like a wimpy dork.

My father cleared his throat. "So, uh, what have you been up to?"

It wasn't a picturesque reunion. For that I was kind of glad. It seemed that neither of us was inclined to mushy sentimentalism. We weren't accustomed to displaying our feelings.  I could just tell. My aloofness must have come from him. My… my _everything_ must have come from him. It was almost like looking in a mirror. I see now how Mom could have been so shocked. We did look and act alike. Too alike.

"I looked for you and mom after I broke out of the hospital."

"Hospital?"

"Your wife has the documents. The DJPF are on their way there now to take control of all the children they've kidnapped."

He nodded. What an unbreakable stone gaze. "I… see."

"And, um… I met Mom. And Coram and Kimmy. They told me to say 'hi' for them."

This seemed to catch him off guard. His eyebrows rose slightly and all he managed was another, "I see."

I bit my lower lip. My heart wasn't pounding. My palms weren't sweaty. This was the most anticlimactic moment in my life, yes sir. Next time, I'll make sure I bring a tickertape parade and a marching band. For cryin' out loud…

"Dad?"

"Yes?"

"Who is Liam?"

"Liam Irons? He's… kind of like my stepbrother. Your grandfather 'adopted' him to piss me off."

We have a vindictive family. Makes a **lot **of sense.

"Dad?"

"Yes?"

"Did you look for me when you found out about me?"

He nodded slowly.

"Oh." This is it. Might as well take the leap now that I'm here. "And Dad?"

"Yes?"

"What are we?"

He moved toward the couch and I followed. We sat down together, my father scratching his chin contemplatively. As I examined his face, I was surprised to see how youthful he looked. He could have passed for my older brother if he wanted to, though he must have been past his mid thirties. I subconsciously fidgeted, curious as to what he would tell me. I'd been waiting my whole life for this. Not for "I love you, son" or "I missed you, son." I wasn't into that sort of thing. And as Yvenne already told me, I hated the world and I didn't know what all that love and beauty in the world meant.

"We're fallen angels, son."

At least it had nothing to do with science. No talk of antibodies or DNA. No neurosurgeons or child therapists. Just a pretty piece of irony. He went on to tell me about my adopted grandfather, Derek, and my real grandmother Celeste—for whom my half-sister was named for. He said I would meet my real grandfather some other day, when they went to visit him. For some reason, an image of Enishi Yukishiro flashed in my mind. I wondered what that creep had to do with this. Joren then told me anything I wanted to know about his life—his brief undercover operation for two years in Tusaine as Jack Winston, his life in Gala… I just sat back and listened like a wide-eyed child.

The days that followed were like a dream. Liam and Yvenne took off for Port Legann. It was a little disquieting though, to know that Liam was properly my uncle and that if he married Yvenne, she would be my aunt. Weirder things have happened… Liam promised me he would locate Baker and bring him along with them. The DJPF raided Styx Hospital and took the children into custody, finding over two hundred matches for ads from the Department of Missing Children. It was all over the news. Kel had me sign a form so that the media couldn't stalk me for interviews. They would have enough people to interview anyway. The majority of Gray Men in the hospital and around Mithros turned themselves in when they discovered that everything was over.

I got their names and planned on speaking to any of them that I could find. I don't know why. I just wanted to.

I moved into the guest room permanently. I was troubled at first. I had been a drifter most of my life, hustling and stealing where I could. And I was, after all, the "other woman's lovechild." Kel, who had kept her maiden name Keladry Mindelan, had very little problems accepting me into her home. I suppose she and my father had talked about me before. They called Julia to tell her that I was safe and that I could visit her anytime I liked. Julia made Kel promise to get me a proper education. A high school diploma and college, whatever they could get me. I wanted to tell them that I was smart enough—street smart and book smart. Hell, I was a freaking genius with a killer smile. But the planning gave Kel something to do with her spare time. I think she just likes accomplishing goals and tasks, no matter what type. I liked her.

She loved my dad. How could I hate someone who loved monsters like us? She's… strong. I don't know how, but I look at my dad and I see the way that he gazes at her when he thinks no one else is looking. Whatever promises he's made or broken to get here, he knows that this final product was worth it. She was worth it. It terrifies me a little. Sometimes I look into his eyes and I see an indescribable horror that will live within him always. A horror—an _evil_—that he wants to set loose from within him. Something that will tear everything he is and everything he loves into shreds. But he'll hold it in and hide it until the day that he dies because he would never hurt her. Again, anyway. Yukishiro was right, I suppose. My mother simply wasn't the one.

Faleron stayed with us for two days, sharing a room with me. His parents came up to Irontown after that. Though for all Faleron's complaining that his parents were never home and were now more entrenched in politics than they'd initially intended to be, it was plain to see that they loved their son and that they realized they had been doing him an injustice shipping him off every summer to a horrible school vacation. The kid would be okay. I just wondered what his parents would think when he'd finally tell them he wanted to enter the Academy early.

My arm healed very quickly. It made Joren smile. (This was a truly phenomenal thing, Kel told me. Joren like to smirk and he liked to be a badass, but he only legitimately smiled when his family was around.) He asked me if I had any scars. I showed him my burn scars from Styx experimentation. He told me in a subdued voice that he used to have burn scars, too. So, vain little me asked if he could show me how to remove mine.

"Just keep them. To remind you who you are."

"I'm Vinny Winston, Dad. I'm a cocky, image-conscious prick. Call Yvenne and ask her. She'll tell ya."

He smirked slightly and thumped me on the back. "You'll be more than that. Dom and Neal will come up here and they'll call you an imposter until you learn to ride a motorcycle."

"You're going to teach me? On Grandpa Derek's motorcycle, maybe?"

"If you want to learn."

I had spent my life only seeking knowledge.

Instead, I found beauty.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Author's note:

And here I end. Forever? Yeah, for this universe. I might finish that Rival Schools fic that I'd put on hiatus last year. I'm really trying to plan out an original story that I could eventually publish. If you guys have ideas for poems or short stories for ICBW and The Gift, though, I'd be glad to put them on my mailing list. A farewell tribute, if you want.

I don't know what else to say to you guys. Your support has been fabulous. I would have gone into high school making plans to become a pharmacist rather than a writer had it not been for people telling me that my writing was good enough. The course of my life has been altered forever. And I owe it all to you.

I hope you all find your own beauty in life.

Sayonara

Sulia Serafine


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